MASTER 
NEGATIVE 

NO.  91-80364 


MICROFILAIED  1991 


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AUTHOR: 


INGLIS,  HENRY 
DAVID 


TITLE : 


SWITZERLAND,  THE 
SOUTH  OF  FRANCE 


PL  A  CE : 


LONDON 


DA  TE : 


1840 


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Columbia  College  Library 

Madison  Av.  and  49th  St.  New  York. 

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THE   SOUTH   OF 


I  KANCE,    AND   THE   PYRENEES. 


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AUTHOR  OF 
SOLITARY  WALKS  THROUGH  MANY  LANDS,"  "  NORWAY  AND  SWEDEN," 
"  JOURNEY  THROUGH  IRELAND,"  &c.  ; 


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Introduction. 


PAGE 

...  vii 


CHAPTER  1. 


THE  TOWN  AND  CANTON  OF  UASIL,  AND  THE  CANTON  OF 

AIKiOVIE. 

Arrival  in  Ba>il— General  Aspect  of  the  T(Avn  and  its 
Inhabitants— The  Dress  of  the  Women— The  Bridge 
of  the  llhine— The  Cathedral,  and  the  View  from  its 
Terrace— An  liistorical  Anecdote— Productions  and 
Constitution  of  the  Canton,  and  the  Domestic  Eco- 
nomy of  the  Inhabitants— Journey  from  Basil  to  Zu- 
rich—Baden—Strange Law  respecting  Dancing— A 
Wedding  Party— The  Village  of  Dieteken,  and  its 
freedom  from  bigotry— Arrival  at  Zurich 1 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  TOWN,  LAKE,  AND  CANTON  OF  ZURICH. 

The  Pilgrims  of  Einsiedeln— Extraordinary  Industry  of 
the  Inhabitants  of  Zurich  in  the  Cultivation  of  the 
Soil,  and  Proofs  of  it— Zurich  Society  and  Amuse- 
ments— General  aspect  of  the  Town,  its  Edifices,  &c. 
—Zurich  as  a  Residence,  Price  of  Provisions,  &-c. — 
The  Lake,  and  its  Scenery— An  Evening  Prospect- 
Swiss  Music— Constitution  of  the  Canton,  and  Do- 
mestic Economy  of  the  Inhabitants— Excursions  to 
the  Neighbourhood— The  Grietfen  See 3 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  TOWN,  LAKE,  AND  CANTON  OF  ZOUG. 

Walk  to  Zoug— More  Proofs  of  the  extraordinary  In- 
dustry of  the  Zurichers— An  Anecdote  that  may  teach 
humility— The  Town  of  Zoug— Its  Inhabitants  and 
Environs— A  Hint  to  Phrenologists— Prices  of  Provi- 
sions at  Zoug— Expenses  of  the  Government,  and 
Constitution  of  the  Canton  — Return  to  Horgen 7 

CHAPTER  IV. 

EINSIEDELN. 

Journey  through  the  Canton  of  Schwytz  to  Einsiedeln — 
A  Rencontre — The  Abbey,  Church,  and  Village  of  Ein- 
siedeln— Concourse  of  Pilgrims — Dresses — Customs — 
Procession — the  Fair — I'articulars  respecting  the  Con- 
vent— The  Miraculous  Image — The  Adorations  paid  to 
it—  Bull  of  Pope  Leo  VIII. — The  Revenues  of  the 
Abbey,  and  their  various  sources — Credulity  of  the 
People— Effects  of  the  Pilgrimage  upon  the  Agricul- 
ture of  the  Catholic  Cantons  of  Switzerland — Journey 
from  Einsiedeln  to  Glarus — Rapperschwyl  Bridge — 
Beggars,  and  Swiss  Independence — The  Mountains 
of  Glarus   8 


I'AGE 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CANTON  OF  GLARUS. 

The  Valley  of  Glarus— The  Town— Character  of  Swiss 
Irms — Anecdote — Singular  Laws  in  tl;e  Canton — Law 
respecting  Inheritance — Laws  respecting  Education — 
Poor-Laws — Protestant  and  Catholic  Clergy — Salaries 
of  Clergy  and  Schoolmasters— Revenues  of  the  Canton 
— Taxes  and  Expenditure — Extraordinary  Laws  re- 
specting Marriage — Prices  of  Provisions  in  Glarus — 
Journey  up  the  Linthall — Character  of  the  upper  part 
of  Glarus — Details  respecting  Schabzieger  Cheese — 
Condition  of  the  Inhabitants  of  theValley  of  the  Linth 
— Pantenbrugge — Scenery  at  the  Head  of  Glarus— 
Return  to  Glarus — Excursion  to  Klonthail — and  Jour- 
ney to  Wesen  .' n 

CHAPTER  VI. 

CANTON  OF  ST.  GALL — THE  GRISONS. 

The  W- alien  see— Journey  to  St.  Gall— Pilgrims— St.  Gall 
and  its  Manufactures — Peculiar  Laws  of  St.  Gall — 
Cheapness  of  Property — Voyage  from  Wesen  to  Wal- 
lenstadt— Character  of  the  Lake,  and  Accident  by  the 
way — Arrival  at  Chur— Chur  and  its  neighbourhood 
— The  Bishopric— State  of  the  Inhabitants,  Mer- 
chants, Lawyers,  Physicians — Journey  from  Chur  to 
the  Ensadine,  across  Mount  Albula — An  Anecdote — 
Details  respecting  Grison  Liberty,  and  the  National 
Character  of  the  Grisons— Revenues  and  Expenditure 
of  the  Canton   14 

CHAPTER  VII. 

COUNTRY  OF  THE  GRISONS. 

Bergun — Scene  in  a  Village  Inn— Traits  of  Character — 
Grison  Enjoyments — The  Passage  of  Mount  Albula, — 
Valley  of  Albula,  Ascent,  and  Scene  of  extraordinary 
Sublimity— Descent  towards  the  Engadine— Charming 
Prospect — Visit  to  a  Mountain  Dairy,  and  Details- 
Arrival  in  the  Ober  Engadine 16 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

COUNTRY  OF  THE  GRISONS — THE  OBER  AND  UNTER 

ENGADINE. 

The  Valley  of  the  Ober  Engadine,  and  the  River  Inn — 
Character  of  the  Valley,  and  Rural  Economy — Grison 
Villages  and  Houses — Fernetz — Suss — Grison  Women 
— State  of  the  Inhabitants  of  the  Engadine — Inns  and 
Shops — Intelligence  of  many  of  the  Natives — Domestic 
Economy  of  the  Inhabitants  of  the  two  Engadines — 
Winter  in  the  Engadine,  and  Grison  Society — Privi- 

^>  n 


I 


PAGE 

leges  peculiar  to  the  Villages— Contentment  of  the 
Natives— Scenery  of  the  Unter  Engadine— CUiarda— 
Character  of  the  Valley  of  the  Unter  Engadine,  and 
its  Productions— Fettam,  and  its  Professor— Details 
respecting  the  Grison  Youth,  and  their  search  after 
Fortune- Education  in  tlie  Engadine— The  Clergy- 
Journey  to  the  Foot  of  the  Valley ^9 


( 


i;   i\. 


THE  COUNTRY  OF  THE  GIUSUNS— THE  VALLEY  OF  THE 

UPPER  RHINE. 

Return  to  Chur,  through  the  Engadines— Instance  of 
Gross  Imposition— The  Baths  of  Pleffers— State  of 
Society  in  Cliur— Reunions  and  Balls— Statistical  De- 
tails—Journey up  the  llheinwald  by  the  Sources  of 
the  Rhine— Character  of  the  Valley  of  the  Upper 
Rhine  — Charming  Scenery  — I lanz  — Grison  Imposi- 
tion—Examples  of  Dishonesty— Road  to  Dissentis— 
Picture  of  Idleness— Domestic  Economy  of  the  Inha 
bitants  of  the  Valley  of  the  Upper  Rhine— Wages  of 
Labour — Dissentis 24 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  ORISONS. 

The  Scenery  of  the  Lower  and  the  Upper  Rhine  com- 
pared—Dissentis,  and  tlie  Valley  of  Tavetch— Life  in 
the  remote  Alpine  Valleys— Passage  of  the  Moun- 
tains —  Ciamut— The  Rhine  near  its  Sources  — Ob- 
servations upon  the  Sources  of  Rivers,  and  Description 
of  the  Sources  of  the  Rhine- Mountain  Prospects— 
The  Lake  of  the  Oberalp,  and  Sources  of  the  Reuss— 
A  dangerous  Bog— Descent  into  the  Canton  of  Uri— 
The  Valley  of  Ursern 29 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  CANTON  OF  URI — THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  REUSS. 

Andermatt,  and  the  Valley  of  Ursern— Rural  Economy- 
Descent  of  the  Valley  of  the  Reuss— The  Devil's 
Bridge— Neglected  state  of  Agriculture,  and  the 
causes  of  it— Scenery  of  the  Valley— Altorf,  and  its 
connexion  with  William  Tell— Fluelen,  and  the  Lake 
of  Uri— An  Evening  on  the  Lake— Tell's  Chapel- 
Character  of  the  Lake  of  ITri— Comparison  between 
the  Lakes  of  Switzerland  and  Swiss  Scenery,  with  the 
Scenery  of  the  Scotch  and  English  Lakes 31 

ClIAl'TEll    XII. 

THE  CANTON,  LAKE,  AND  CITY  OF  LUCERNE. 

Till'  I.ikr  of  tlic  Four  Cantons — Historic  Recollections — 
Hriiiiiu  II  Schwytz— Visit  to  the  Valley  of  Lauertz, 
and  the  Site  of  (Joldau — The  Fall  of  the  Hossherg — 
Some  Details,  and  Reflections — Return  to  Bruiinen, 
and  Voyage  to  Lucerne — Gersau  and  its  History — The 
Riiii  — r,u((rne — The  Situation  and  Environs  of  Lu- 
rerne-Markets,  and  Prices  (if  Provisions — Bridges — 
i'litilic  Se!inii.uics  -State  of  MoraK — The  Moiiuincnt 
in  Comnieiuoration  of  the  S\vi>s  (iuards — Churches 
and  Relics — Promenades— Stale  of  tlie  Canton — At- 
tempt to  Ascend  Mount  Pilate 33 

CHAl'TER  Mil. 

r.KUNK. 

Journey  from  Lucerne  to  Berne— Tlie  Zeiiipeaclifr- 
Zee — Appearance  of  Hfriie-  Pre]>arat;ioiis  for  Opening 
the  Diet — Arrival  of  the  Deiiuties-'i'lie  Platforni  of 
the  Cathedral,  and  view  of  the  Oberland  Bernois  -  The 
Markets  and  Prices  of  Provisions — Berne  as  a  Kesi- 
denee — Sunday  in  Berne — St.  Christophe — The  Tira^re 
Federal  —  Crime  and  Punishment  ~  Anecdote  —  The 
()])fniiig  of  the  Diet  -Honours  rendered  to  Ladies — 
Details  respecting  tlie  Opening;  Ceremonies — Public 
Opinion  and  Political  Party  in  Swit/erland    3'J 


PAGE 


(Ml  \i'Ti:i;  \\v. 


BERNE — ST.  PETER's  ISLE — HOFWYL. 

Reasons  for  preferring  Berne  as  a  Residence — Society  of 
Berne  —  Public  Establishments  —  Excursion  to  the 
Lake  of  Bienne  and  Rousseau's  Isle — Aarberg — The 
Lake  —  Character  of  St.  Peter's  Isle  — Reflections  — 
Return  to  Berne — Excursion  to  Hofwyl — Details  re- 
specting the  Estatilishmcnt — Canton  of  Berne 44 

CiiAi'liJi.  XV. 

THE  OBERLAND  BERNOIS. 
Journey  from  Benie  to  Interlaken — Thun  and  its 
Lake — Unterseen.  and  the  Plain  of  Interlaken — Inns 
and  Boarding  Houses — Interlaken  as  a  Residence — 
Scenery — Mutability  of  Fashion — Journey  by  the  Wen- 
gem  Alp  and  the  Sheideck — Lautcrbrunnen  and  its 
Valley —  The  Stubbaeh  —  Cheese-making  —  Moun tain 
Scenery— The  Jungfrau— The  Silver  Horns— The  Wet- 
terhorn — Mount  Eiger — Details  respecting  the  Ascent 
of  the  Jungfrau — Night  Views — Mountain  Legend — 
Effects  of  a  Glacier — Descent  towards  Grindelwald 47 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  OBERLAND   BERNOIS — THE  CANTONS  OF  FRIBOURG 

AND  VAUD. 

The  Glaciers  of  Grindelwald— Excursion  on  the  Mer  de 
Glace,  and  Details  respecting  the  Death  of  M.  Mou- 
ron— State  of  the  Inhabitants  of  the  Valley  of  Grin- 
delwald, and  strange  Laws  and  Usages  peculiar  to  it — 
Return  to  Interlaken— Escape  of  a  Schoolmaster — 
Valley  of  the  Black  Leutchen— Visit  to  the  Lake  of 
Brientz— The  Griesbach— The  Evils  of  Imagination— 
Brientz— A  Moonlight  Sail,  and  Return  to  Interla- 
ken— Journey  from  Interlaken  to  Vevay,  by  the  Sem- 
menthall—Spietz—Wimmiss— Character  of  the  Sem- 
menthall — Saanenland,  Gruyere,  and  Gruyere  Cheese — 
Descent  to  the  Lake  of  Geneva — Vevay 51 

Cil  AllER  XVII. 

THE  LAKE,  CITY,  AND  CANTON  OF  GENEVA. 

Lake  Leman  and  its  Phenomena — Visit  to  Chillon — Cla- 
rens — Rousseau — Byron — Enchanting  Scenery — Lau- 
sanne— Lausanne  as    a   Residence — John    Kemble — 
Gibbon's    Library — Geneva — Manners  and   Morals  of 
the  Genevese — the  City  and  Canton — Voltaire 55 

CllAl'IKli    Will. 

FROM  GENEVA    n>   l.VONS LYONS. 

Change  of  Scenery  in  passing  from  Switzerland  into 
France — The  Perte  de  la  Bhone — Lyons — The  Quay 
of  the  Rhone — The  Inhabitants — Paris  Influence — 
The  Quay  of  the  Soane— Fourviers 59 

CilAI'Ti:K    MX. 


DF^'^CKNT  OF   Tin:   ItllONK. 

Scenery  of  the  Rhone  between  Lyons  and  Vieiiiie — 
The  Cote  Roti  Vineyard — Commerce  on  ilie  Rhone 
— Indications  of  Heat,  atid  Discomforts  -Dauphiny 
and  Laiiguedor — The  •'Hermitage"  Vineyard — Va- 
lence—St.  Peray  Vineyards — Sulferings  from  Heat— 
.\c(  i(h'iits — Dangerous  Navigation  of  the  Rhone — The 
Rapid  of  the  Pout  de  St.  Ksjjrit — Scenery — Ajijiroach 
to  Avignun,  and  Arrival  —  .More  Accidents  


GO 


CHAPTER  XX. 


AVltiNO.N. 

The  Charms  of  Narrow  Streets — The  Influence  of  Cli 
mate  upon  the  Usages  of  Countries — The  I'alace  of 
the  Popes— Filthiness  of  Avignon—Observations  upon 
the  Scenery  of  France,  and  upon  the  .Misrepresenta- 
tions of  Travellers  and  Homanciers^ — The  duty  of  ex- 
posing F^rror — the  Environs  of  Avignon — The  State 
of  the  City <■'■< 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


CHAPTER  XXL 


VAUCLUSE. 

Claims  of  Petrarch  upon  the  Gratitude  of  Posterity- 
Journey  to  I'lsle  and  Vaucluse-The  Valley  of  Vau- 
cluse— The  Fountain— Grandeur  of  the  Scenery- 
Petrarch's  Gardens— His  way  of  Life— His  House- 
Monument  at  the  Village-Trait  of  the  Duchess  d'An- 
gouleme— The  Bise  Wind  of  Provence  the  Circms  of 
the  Ancients— Return  to  Avignon 65 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

JOURNEY  TO  NISMES — NISMES. 

Ignorance  of  some  Travellers— Journey  to  the  Pont  de 
Gard— Its  Magnificence— Arrival  at  Nismes— Neces- 
sary Privations— Character  of  Nismes— Its  Antiqui- 
ties—Errors upon  the  subject  of  French  Politeness 68 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MONTPELI ER — NARBONNE. 

Montpelier,  its  Climate  and  Reputation— Montpelier  as 
a  Residence— A  Jour  de  Fete— Apparent  Inconsist- 
encies of  French  Character— Journey  to  Narbonne-— 
Cette,  and  its  Manufactory  of  Wines  — La  Maladie 
Noir  —  Bezieres— French  Brandy  Manufactories  — 
Narbonne — Narbonne  Honey— Fruit-Markets— Jour- 
ney to  Perpignan— The  Mediterranean— Perpignan 
and  its  Population— the  Citadel— French  Opinions  of 
Prussia  and  Flngland — Expenses  in  the  South  of 
France  —  Journey  to  Carcassone  —  "  Hair-breadth 
'scapes  " — Quillan — Limoux — Champagne  du  Midi — 
Carcassone — Husbandry  in  Languedoc 71 

CHAPTER  XMV. 

THOULOUSE. 

The  Markets  of  Thoulouse,  and  Market-People— Fruit 
in  England  and  on  the  Continent— Place  du  Capitale— 
The  Floral  Games  —  The  Dark  Ages  —  Clemensa 
Isaure,  and  her  Poetry— Institutions  and  Churches— 
Thoulouse  as  a  Residence — Prices  of  Provisions 75 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

JOURNEY   FROM   THOULOUSE — LOURDES,  AND  ARGELES. 

Country  to  the  South  of  Thoulouse  —  Auch  —  Tarbes 
and  its  Inhabitants— The  Plain  at  the  Foot  of  the 
Pyrenees  —  Lourdes  —  Tradition  —  The  Defile  of 
Lonrdes.  and  Entrance  to  the  Mountains — The  Valley 
of  Argeles — Argeles  and  its  Inhabitants 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ARGELES  TO  LUZ AND  ST.  S.M'VKl  li. 

Boute  to  Pierrehtte— St.  Savin— St.  Orens— tlie  Defile 
of  Pierrehtte— The  Cradle  of  Luz— Matchless  Sce- 
nery—  St.  Sauveur —  Expenses    and   Comforts — The 


78 


Waters  of  St.  Sauveur 


81 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  PYRENEES. 

Situation  and  Extent  of  tlie  Pyrenees — Height  of  the 
Summits — Mines — Valleys  of  the  l\vrenecs,  and  their 
Productions — Roads — Comparison  between  the  Sce- 
nery of  Switzerland  .iiid  the  Pyrenees,  and  Reasons 
whv  the  Pvrenees  are  little  visited 


83 


THK 


CHAPTER  XXVI 11. 

I.MIAUITANTS  OF  THK  PYRKNEE.S. 


Manner  of  Life  of  the  Pyrenean  Mountaineer — His 
Winter  and  Sumnier  Habitations — His  Industry — 
Dress — Hospitality — Morals^Sliort  Summary  of  the 
Hislor)  and  present  State  of  the  Cagots 85 


PAGE 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


BAREGES THE  VALLEY  01-    BASTAN  AM)  CAMPAN. 

The  Valley  of  Bareges— Devastations  of  the  Gave  de 
Bastan— Bareges,  its  Inhabitants  and  its  Waters — 
Journey  to  the  Lake  d'Oncet— Old  Usages— The  Milk 
of  the  PjTenees  —  Mountain  Scenes  —  The  Lake 
d'Oncet— Mountaineers— Difficult  Path— The  Tour- 
malet — Character  of  the  Valley  of  Campan  88 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

BAGNERES  DE  BIGORRE ASCENT  OF  THE  PIC   DU  MIDI. 

Bagneres  de  Bigorre— Its  Visitors,  Attractions,  and 
Waters— Journey  from  Bagneres  to  Grip,  and  Morn- 
ing Scenes— Ascent  of  the  Pic  du  Midi— View  from 
the  Summit— Remarks,  and  Comparison  of  different 
Views  from  different  Mountains— Temperature— De- 
scent, and  Return  to  St.  Sauveur 91 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  GAVARNIE — MARBORE — THE  BRECHE 
DE  ROLAND,  AND  THE  VALLEY  OF  HEAS. 

An  Izard-hunter,  and  his  Conversation— The  Shepherds 
and  their  Flocks— The  Valley  of  Pragneres— The  Pe- 
rj'ada  — The  Inn  of  Gavarnie  — The  Amphitheatre  of 
Marbore— Ascent  of  the  Br^che  de  Roland,  and  View 
into  Spain— Return  to  Gavarnie  and  Gedro- The  Val- 
ley of  Heas,  and  a  Fete 94 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

JOURNEY  TO  CAUTERETS — CAUTERETS. 

Journey  across  the  Mountains— Lakes  of  the  Pyrenees— 
A  Night  in  a  Hut— Arrival  at  Cauteret.s— Situation  of 
Cauterets— Baths,  and  Medicinal  Waters— The  Gave 
de  Cauterets— Return  to  St.  Sauveur  by  the  Vigne- 
male  and  Gavarnie  97 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

JOURNEY  TO  BAGNERES  DE  LOUCHON— BAGNERES  DE 

LOUCIION. 

The  ideal  and  the  real  of  Travelling— Journey  to  Ar- 
reau  — Marbriere  — Arreau,  and  the  Valley  of  the 
Aure— The  Family  of  Armagnac- Journey  to  Bag- 
ndres  de  Louchon— The  Valley  of  Louchon— The 
Baths--The  Waters,  and  Opinions  of  Physicians- 
Visit  to  the  Lakes  of  Seculejo,  and  the  Espingo 99 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

BIERETZ. 

Bayonne  and  its  Advantages  as  a  Residence— Travel- 
ling en  Cacolet— Road  to  Bieretz— Situation  of  Bie- 
retz— The  Coast— The  Bay  of  Biscay,  in  Calm  and  in 
Storm— A  Perilous  Situation— Views  round  Bieretz— 
Bieretz  as  a  Sea-bathing  Place— Curious  Usages— Pro- 
menades in  the  Neighbourhood— Other  Excursions— 
A  Fete  du  Village— Pleasures  of  a  Sejour  at  Bieretz 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

J(U  UNEY  PROM   BAGNERtlS  DE  LOUCHON  TO  PAU, 

Retrospect— Journey  from  Bagneres  de  Louchon  to  Bag- 
neres de  Bigorre— The  Garonne— A  Tradition  of  the 
Holy  War.s— Journey  to  Pau— St.  Pe— Betharam  and 
its  Cavalry— French  Honesty— The  Province  of  Beam 
and  its  Productions— Approach  to  Pau 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

PAU. 

Environs  of  Pau— Pau  as  a  Residence— The  Chateau  of 
Henri  Ouatre— The  King's  Cradle— Journey  from  Pau 
to  Bourdeaux  —  French  Accommodation  —  First-rate 
and  Inferior  Inns  f08 


102 


106 


d 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


PACE 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


BOLKDKAUX. 

Bourdeaux  little  visited—Historical  Sketch— Clim.tte 
and  Air  of  Bourdeaux— The  Quay  and  Bridge— Table 
of  the  Comparative  Dimensions  of  Bridges — The 
Theatre  —  The  New  Hospital  —  Churches  —  Learned 
Societies — Public  Instruction — Antiquities — Situation 
and  Environs— Condition  of  the  Peasantry— The  In- 
habitants of  the  Landes— Society  in  Bourdeaux— 
The  Cliateau  de  Montesquieu I 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THK  WINKS  OF  UOrRDHAtX. 
Classification  of  the  Wines  of  Bour<leaux — Produce— 
Qualities  of  Crapes— First  Growths— Medoc  ami  its 
Wines— Chateau-Margaux,  Lafitte,Latour,  Haut-Brion 
—Produce  and  Value  of  these  Vineyards— Classifica- 
tion of  the  four  first  Growths  of  Claret— St.  Emilion 
—Export  of  these  Wines— Errors  respecting  the  Ma- 
nufacture of  Claret— Inferior  Wines  exported  as  Clarets 
—Other  Wines  of  France  

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

ITINKRARY  Ol"  THK   LOIKK. 

Nantes  and  its  Environs—Journey  to  Saumur— State  of 
the  French  Peasantry— Anccunis   and   its  charming 


0!) 


ii;j 


V  A  G  1 ; 


St-enery— Scenery  of  Bretagne— I ngrande— Angers— 
The  Castle  and  its  History— Environs— A  grape  Diet 
—Saunuir— Castle  of  Fontevrauld,  and  its  History    ...    119 

CHAin^ER  XL. 

ITINERARY   OK  THK  LOIKK. 

Journey  to  Tours — Condition  of  tlie  Peasantry — Hints 
to  Travellers— Langears  and  its  Castle — Tours — The 
CatlK'dral  —  Promenades  —  Tours  as  a  Residence — 
Climate — Plessis  les  Tours,  and  its  Historic  Recollec- 
tions   •   123 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

[Ti.m:rarv  ok  thk  loirk. 

Journey  to  Blois— Scenery  of  the  Loire— Chaumont— 
IJIois— The  Castle  and  its  Histories— The  Chateau  de 
Chambord— Francis  1.— Journey  to  Orleans— Clery, 
and  Louis  XL— Orleans- The  Maid  of  Orleans— The 
Cathedral— Conclusion  126 


Appkndix.— Description  of  the  Slide  of  Alpnacli 


130 


INTRODUCTION. 


There  is  something  so  curious  in  tlie  spectacle  of  a  Federative  Republic,  situated  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  European  powers,  tliat  a  few  words,  exi>lanatory  of  its  origin  and  constitution,  seem  almost  a 
necessary  introduction  to  the  j)erusal  of  any  book  treating  of  Switzerland. 

The  basis  of  that  Federative  Republic,  which  was  secured  to  the  twenty-two  cantons  of  Switzerland 
by  the  peace  of  1815,  was  laid  so  early  as  the  beginning  of  the  14th  century  ;  for  it  was  at  that  epoch, 
that  the  small  territories  of  Uri,  Schwytz,  and  Unterwald,  bound  themselves  in  a  holy  league,  to  shake 
off  the  fetters  imposed  upon  them  by  their  Austrian  mastei-s  ;  and  the  attempt  of  this  petty  confederacy 
having  proved  successful,  it  was  strengthened,  before  the  middle  of  the  14th  century,  by  the  accession  of 
Lucerne,  Zurich,  Glarus,  Zoug,  and  Berne.  The  basis  of  this  ancient  league  was  a  love  of  independence  ; 
and  the  separate  states  were  bound  together  by  no  other  general  laws,  than  by  that  simple  treaty  of 
alliance,  whoso  foundation,  strength,  and  object,  consisted  in  the  love  of  freedom.  Gradually,  as  success 
in  anus  more  and  more  assured  the  liberties  of  the  Confederates,  they  sought  to  consolidate  the  league, 
by  the  enactment  of  wise  laws  among  themselves,  and  to  strengthen  it,  by  an  alliance  with  neighbouring 
states.  Accordingly,  St.  Gall,  Bienne,  the  Grisons,  the  Valais,  Geneva,  Neufchatel,  part  of  Basil, 
and  Appenzell,  became  the  allies  of  the  Confederated  States,  though  not  at  first  forming  a  part  of  the 
league. 

Many  reverses  were  experienced  by  the  Confederated  States  during  the  centuries  that  followed,  in 
defence  of  the  principle  that  had  first  united  them  ;  and  there  is  certainly  not  exhibited  in  the  history  of 
any  other  people  so  unconquerable  a  love  of  liberty,  as  that  which  has  continued  to  animate  the  Swiss 
during  a  period  of  four  centuries— shown  in  success  and  in  adversity  ;  nor  forgotten  even  at  those 
epochs,  when  security  had  begotten  repose,  and  when  the  spoils  of  war  had  spread  the  entanglements  of 
luxury. 

Although  at  first  the  ancient  league  showed  some  jealousy  in  admitting  other  states  to  a  participation 
j    in  all  its  privileges,  this  narrow  policy  speedily  yielded  to  more  enlarged  views.     Fribourg  and  Soleure 
were  admitted  among  the  Confederates  soon  after  the  important  victory  gained  at  Morat  over  the 
renowned  duke  of  Burgundy,  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XI. ;  and,  about  twenty  years  later,  Basil,  Shaff. 
hausen,  and  Appenzell,  strengthened  the  league,  by  their  accession  to  it. 

After  some  ages  of  peace,  the  Swiss  Confederacy  became  endangered,  not  by  ambition  of  foreign  foes, 
but  by  the  designs  of  some  of  its  most  powerful  citizens ;  and  the  league  would  probably  have  offered 
another  exam}>le  of  the  fate  of  republics,  if  the  French  Revolution,  so  fertile  both  in  good  and  evil,  had 
not  led  to  its  partial  conservation.  Napoleon,  in  1803,  promulgated  his  act  of  mediation  ;  which,  although 
failing  to  establish  the  Swiss  Confederacy  upon  a  secure  basis  of  liberty  and  union,  yet  had  the  effect  of 
preserving  it  from  the  designs  of  the  ambitious.  A  feeble  attempt  to  establish  an  oligarchy  in  some  of 
the  cantons,  and  an  aristocracy  in  others,  was  made  at  the  time  when  the  last  struggle  between  France 
and  the  rest  of  Eiiroi)e  spread  a  feeling  of  uncertainty  throughout  the  Continent,  and  when  Switzerland 
was  inundated  with  foreign  troops.     But  public  opinion  opposed  the  design  ;  and  the  fall  of  Napoleon 


W' 


Mil 


INTRODUCTION. 


soon 
in 


.      ..1  f  ,  f  tl...  .itt-iirs  of  Europe,  and  to  tlu'  act  of  confederacy,  framed 

,n  iffpr  Ipd  to  the  f^enera   Bettleinent  oi  the  attaiis  oi  r.uioi  i , 

.n  alter,  lea  to  int  ^t,  conquests  .)f  France  were  restored  to 

in  IRli   andratitiedbvtheCongressat  Vienna,  b\^N  hit  li  all  tnc  con  111  ,,..,, 

:r;,::    l  .He  LepUo„  :,  «.  v.*,.  o^  ewe....,  ,W.„  ...a  ..0  VaUen...  .  a^^^^^^  ,^e,W 

..  „.  .,.euo..ea  >^,.e  o..  ^  ^  j^  ::r  ix^  ^  t^^s^nx:^:^^^  S.. 

Thefollow  n'^are  the  nrmcipal  pomts  emuiacKi  i\>  iiR  •     ,  ,i.  . 

co„^«U  *•,  »;  deCa  Jl  to  Le  unite,,,  for  the  ,.efe,.ce  of  t,...U-  lir.cHies  a..,,  .,„U,,e,.,le..ee,  a.a„.s,  ,  . 
tet    ."      orei...  c.,e.„-,es,  a,..,  for  tl.o  n,ai.,te„a,.ce  of  n.ten.a,  eo.,eo,.,.     ,„..„.  .vs,,ee..v.  te.-n, ... • 
a  .rers,it..tio.,B  are  reeirroeally  ,„ava..tee„,  a..,,  .leelare.l  i.-violaWe^a...,  the,  are  ,x,u.k1  .....ect.  el, 
far         eertai..  co..,n,  J..t.  i,.  troops  a.,,,  mooev,  aeeor.Ung  to  a  .ea,e  of  their  „o,,.,h.t.o..  a,„.  r.ei.es. 
Th      .ilitary  ehest,  a.,d  the  funds  arising  fro.n  the  ent.-.v  of  foreign  „,e..ehand..e  are  p  aeed  .,.,der  the 
lirLionof  certai.  eo,n...issio.,e..  ..an.ed  hy  the  di.-t  ;  a..d,  i..  ease  of  danger,  a..y  .n,l,v,dua.  ea,.ton  .na. 

ra,.d  assistance  fro,n  the  ,.e,gh. ring  eanto.,s.    The  Ca..to..s  of  Zorieh,  »er,.e,  Kr,ho..rg.  B,ts,    an 

Geneva  onlv,  are  pern.itted  to  have  a  pen.,a..e„t  n.ili.ary  foree  ;    a.,d   that  foree  .s  so  sn,all,  that  t,  e 
:^i  s  of  •  wit.e  land  are  certai.,ly  not  endangered  hy  a  standing  arn.y.     T,,e  who.e  foree  amou.,ts 
hn    to  72«  .nen.     In  the  other  cantons,  there  is  a  sn^all  n.iUtia  in  which  the  c..,«.,.s  serve.      1  he  great 
diet  of  Switzerland  is  co,..posed  of  deputies  f..„.n  the  twenty-two  states,  every  canton  possess.ng  one  vo.ce 
,hrou.h  its  principal  represctativc.  which  he  gives  according  to  the  .ns,r.,ct,o..s  he  has  recv.ved,  a,.,l 
„  ,:i    el,.al  ■•espo.Lihili.y.    To  the  diet,  wi.ich  assc.hlcs  every  year,  helongs  the  r.ght  of  deelanng 
war  a,.d  peace  -,  a..d  of  concl,..h,.g  f<.reig..  allia..ces,  of  na.nh.g  ambassa.krs,  and  of  prov.dn.g  gene,-all.v 
for  the  safety  of  the  league  agah.st  fo,-eign  and  do,.,estic  e..e,nies.   In  i,npor.a,.t  n.attcs,  such  as  a  quest.o.. 
of  peace  or  war,  three-fourths  of  the  cantons  ,nust  sa..ction  the  proposal;   hut  i..  ord.nary  n.atters,  a 
plurality  suffices.    The  presidency  of  the  ea.,tons  is  shared  hy  the  Ca..tons  of  Znneh,   icr,.c,  and  L..eer.,e, 
Iho  alternately  cjoy  the  disth.etio,..    The  ca..to..s  are  sovereign  and  i.,depe..de..t  of  each  o  he,-,  a...,  a  e 
each  govcr,.ed  hy  co.,stitutions  peculiar  to  then.selves  ;  hut,  al,ho,.gh  they  have  the  power  o   ...d.v.,  ..ally 
fo,™ing  treaties  with  .teighh«n,.i,.g  forcig..  states,  these  m..st  he  h.  acco.danee  w.th  the  fe, leral  act,  a,.d 
not  inc:..siste.,t  with  the  privileges  of  other  ca„to..s.    The  prh.ciplc  of  free  trade  hctwcen  the  ca..tons  .s 
fullv  provided  for  ;  and  the  only  ,.. her  article  necessary  to  he  ,nentio.,ed  is,  that  the  ex.steuco  of  he 
convents,  of  ecclesiastical  rights,  a,.d  the  secri.y  of  church  p.-opcr.y,  are  guaranteed.     Such  are  the 
heads  of  the  act  of  eo.,fede..ey,  which  was  accon.pa..ied  hy  a.,otl.er  act,  sig,.,.d  hy  the  ,,le.npote„  .ar.es 
of  (ireat  Britai.,,  France,  A..stria,  Russia,  IVt.ssia,  a..d  Portugal,  hy  which  the  IcderaUve  Kepuhhc  of 
Switzerland  is  expressly  aclcowh-dged,  and  its  territory  guai-mteed. 


'id 


* 


SWITZERLAND,''**^   ^^'^  ^ 

VVn- 


f 


THE 


SOUTHERN  PROVINCES  OF  FRANCE,  AND  THE  PYRENEES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  TOWN  ANO  C.VMON  OF   BASIL,  AND  THE  CANTON  OF 

ARdOVlE. 

Arrival  in  Basil— General  aspect  of  the  Town  and  its 
Inhabitants— The  Dress  of  the  Women— The  Bridge  of 
the  inline— The  Cathedral,  and  the  ^■iew  from  its  Terrace 
—An  historical  Anecdote- Productions  and  Constitution 
of  tlie  Canton,  and  the  Domestic  Economy  of  the  Inhabit- 
ants— Journey  from  Basil  to  Zurich— Baden— Strange  Law  i 
respecting  Dancing-A  Wedding  Party— The  village  of  j 
Dieteken,  and  its  freedom  from  bigotry— Arrival  at 
Zurich.  I 

T  WALKED  into  Basil  amid  torrents  of  rain  ;  the 
.'Streets  were  alnio.st  entirely  deserted  ;  and,  being 
Sunday  morning,  the  shops  were  closed.  Every 
thing, 'in  short,  wore  a  cheerless  aspect;  but  tiie 
consciousness  that  I  was  in  Switzc^rland— the  novel 
ai)i)earance  of  every  thing  around— the  ghmpse.s 
which,  at  sudden  openings,  I  occasionally  caught  of 
tiie  majestic  Rhine  rolling  its  vast  volume  of  water 
parallel  with  the  street,  and  sweeping  the  gardens 
of  the  citizens— left  no  room  for  repining  at  the 
unfavourable  circumstances  under  which  I  made 
my  entrance  into  the  Swiss  republic  :  an  excellent 
breakfast  too,  at  the  hofef  de  Chjo'jne,  where  I  tasted 
good  bread  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  Eng- 
land ;  still  farther  reconciled  me  to  a  wet  day,  and 
a  Swiss  Sunday.  But  soon  after  mid-day  the  sun 
broke  out,  and  in  a  moment  the  aspect  of  every 
thing  was  changed.  The  morning  service,  too, 
being  ended,  the  streets  were  tilled  with  the  devout 
Basilois  liastening  from  church  to  dinner,  which, 
throughout  almost  every  part  of  Switzerland,  is 
served  precisely  at  half-past  twelve.  Let  this  piece 
of  information  be  a  caution  to  the  traveller  who 
wishes  to  enjoy  his  dinner,  not  to  breakfast  late, 
or  indulge  too  freely  in  the  luxuries  of  a  Swiss 
fr'uhfituck  or  dtjcune,  l)ecause  every  one  is  not  able 
to  adopt  the  inaxim  laid  down  by  a  certain  French 
gastn.nome,  which  says,  "  Breakfast  as  if  you  were 
not  to  dine  ;  and  dine  as  if  you  had  not  break- 
fasted." 

Basil,  although  well  built,  charmingly  situated, 
and  containing  many  fine  edifices,  is  not  one  of  the 
most  interesting  of  the  Swiss  towns  :  it  is  too  near 
P' ranee  to  exhibit  a  true  picture  of  a  Swiss  town, 
either  in  its  external  aspect,  or  in  the  manners  of 
the  inhabitants.  Yet,  to  the  traveller  who  arrives 
in  this  part  of  Switzerland  by  way  of  France,  there 
is  much  both  to  admire  and  to  interest.  Descend- 
ing into  the  street  from  the  hotel,  with  the  intention 


of  finding  my  way  to  the  cathedral,  I  was  forcibly 
struck  with  the  sui)eriority  of  the  Swiss  women 
over  the  French,  both  in  features  and  in  dress.     I 
would  say,  in  form  too  ;  but  this  would  scarcely  be 
just,  because  the  French  female  peasantry  dress  in 
such  wretched  taste,  that  it  is  possible    many  a 
perfect  form  may  be  disfigured  by  the  imperfec- 
tions of  its  covering  ;  and  let  us  charitably  suppose 
that  such  is  the  fact.     The  coifure  of  the  women  of 
Basil  pleased  me.    In  place  of  tying  a  handkerchief 
close  round  the  head,  as  is  the  almost  invariable 
custom  in  the  French  provinces,  or  of  covering  the 
hair  with  tinsel  ornaments,  as  is  usual  on  the  Ger- 
man frontier,  the  Swiss,  at  least  the  Basilois,  adopt 
the  simple  mode  of  fixing  a  bow  of  broad  black 
ribbon  a  little  forward  from  the  crown  of  the  head, 
allowing  the  two  vandyked   ends  to  fall  halfway 
down  the  forehead.      This  does  not   disfigure  a 
pretty  face,  and  sets  off  a  plain  one.      I  did  not  find 
the  taste  of  the  Basilois  so  conspicuous  in  every 
thing  else.      Although  the  rain  had  ceased,  they 
still  earned  their  umbrellas  unfurled,  to  dry  them  ; 
and  these  exhibited  more  than  all  the  coloui-s  of 
the  rainbow.  The  favourite  colours  were  bright  red, 
yellow,  and  pink  ;  nor  did  the  ladies  of  Basil  show 
more  tase  in  colonic,  than  the  women  in  humbler 
ranks.     Their  parasols  exhibited   quite  as  gaudy 
an  array,  and,  being  silk,  the  colours  were  even 
brighter. 

In  walking  through  the  streets  of  Basil,  I  found 
that  scarcely  one  was  without  its  fountain,  which 
jetted  the  clearest  water,  in  three  or  four  streams, 
into  a  large  oval  stone  basin,  full  to  the  brim  ;  this, 
if  it  does  not  actually  diffuse  coolness,  is  at  least 
associated  with  it,  and  is,  at  all  events,  refreshing 
to  the  eye.  In  place  of  making  my  way  to  the  ca- 
thedral, 1  found  myself  upon  the  bridge— a  level 
wooden  bridge,  supported  by  stone  abutments,  which 
crosses  the  Rhine,  and  leads  into  the  territory  of 
Baden.  I  found  this  a  charming  promenade  :  the 
streets  being  wet,  the  inhabitants  resorted  to  it  in 
preference.  I  had  thus  the  advantage  of  seeing,  at 
the  same  time,  the  prospect  up  and  down  the  river, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  Basil  in  their  Sunday  clothes. 
The  river  flows  with  such  rapidity,  and  with  so 
much  force  beneatli  the  bridge,  that  one  almost 
trembles  for  its  security. 

1  had  the  pleasure,  in  the  aftei-noon,  of  partaking 

of  the  hospitalities  of ,  to  whom   I  carried  a 

letter  of  introduction,  and  whose  magnificent  man- 
sion is  situated  upon  an  eminence  commanding  a 
charming  view  of  the  Rhine,  and  the  adjacent 
country.  This  gentleman  possesses  one  of  the  finest 

B 


'> 


BASIL. 


[chap.  I. 


follection  of  pictuJ.'S  in  Switzerland.  1  found  among 
tlicni  clioic*'  wiirks  of  (luido,  KuVuiis,  Andrcn-dol- 
Sartii,  Carlo  Dolco,  Woiivcrnums,  Kiiysduel,  Cu}  p, 
Berghem,  Renibrandt,  and  many  others.  I  would 
stroniily  advise  the  traveller  to  visit  this  gallery  : 
he  will  find,  in  the  two  pietures  of  Ruysdael  alone, 
ample  compensation  for  his  time. 

A  little  before  sunset,  I  found  my  way  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  cathedral,  where  a  terrace 
planted  with  chestnut-trees  overhangs  the  Rhine, 
which  flows  about  two  hundred  feet  below.  Here 
I  enjoyed  a  charming  prospect,  not  altogether  of  a 
Swiss  landscape,  but  in  which  were  mingled  some 
of  the  features  of  Swiss  scenery.  A  deliglitful 
little  plain,  covered  with  thickets  and  small  coun- 
try-houses, extended  from  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river  to  the  foot  of  the  hills  which  stretch 
through  the  territory  of  Baden.  These  formed 
a  fine  back-ground,  chequered  as  they  were  by 
sunshine  and  shade.  Up  and  down  the  Rhine, 
the  gardens  of  the  citizens,  full  of  choice  shrubs 
and  flowers,  sloped  down  to  the  river  side  ;  while 
on  o\u)  bank,  the  picturesque  buildings  of  Little 
Basil,  and  on  the  other  the  .superb  edifices  of  the 
rich  merchants,  extended  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
follow  the  curve  of  the  river.  Switzerland  seemed 
still  to  lie  ])evon<l  ;  for,  as  the  sun  continued  to 
sink,  it  suddenly  disappeared  behind  a  lofty  range 
of  mountains  which  bounded  the  horizon,  and  which 
form  an  appendage  to  the  Jura. 

In  re  turning  to  the  hotel,  T  again  ]>assed  and  re- 
passed the  bridge  ;  and  observing  upon  the  stone 
tower  above  the  archway,  facing  the  Baden  side,  a 
figure  with  the  tongue  thrust  out  of  the  mouth,  I 
naturally  intiuirod  the  oriixin  of  so  singular  a  fanev. 
The  cau.se  is  this  : — Tin-  Kliine  divides  the  city 
into  Great  and  Little  Basil  ;  and  in  former  times, 
these  towns  were  not  always  in  harmony  with  each 
other.  It  happened  that  Little  Basil,  which  was 
not  able  to  cope  with  (Jreat  Basil  in  open  warfare, 
laid  a  scheme,  by  which  (Jreat  Basil  was  to  be 
entered  by  stealth,  and  sur])ri.sed  during  the  night  ; 
but  the  .scheme  being  in  .some  way  discovered,  and 
the  attempt  frustiated,  the  inhabitants  of  Great 
Basil  eau.si'd  a  figure  to  be  placed  above  the  arch- 
way wliieli  looks  over  to  Little  Basil,  with  the 
tongue  thrust  out  of  the  mouth,  in  derision  of  so 
contenijitible  an  (>nemy.  I  have  been  told,  that  the 
iidiabitants  of  Little  Basil  would  gladly  have  this 
insolent  tongue  removed  ;  but  the  inhabitants  of 
Great  Basil  still  enjoy  the  jest,  an  1  insist  upon 
kee])ing  the  tongue  where  it  is. 

The  environs  of  Basil  are  very  pleasing.  How 
can  they  be  otherwi.se,  with  the  Rhine  for  a  neigh- 
bour ?  (Iiarnnng  country-houses  are  every  where 
scatterod  al)i»ut  ;  and  well  laid-out  gai-d.-ns  mingle 
with  tine  meadows,  fertile  fields,  and  abundance  of 
wood. 

The  public  edifices  of  Basil  are  not  extremely 
interesting.  The  cathedral,  built  of  a  reddish  stone, 
whitdi  has  the  ajipearaiiee  of  brick,  contains  nothing 
within  it  worthy  of  notice,  excepting  the  tomb  of 
Lrasmus  ;  and  the  Ibh  1  dc  \'ille  is  the  only  other 
building  of  auv  iniponance.  Rasil  has  always 
maintained  an  hon(jural)lr  place  in  the  republic  of 
lettei"s,  which  is  suffieirntlv  attested  by  the  names 
of  Euler,  Bi.rnouiUi,  Holbein,  an  1  others  ;  and  the 
Tnix'  i-sity  of  Basil  is  the  oidy  one  in  Switzerland. 
L\(  rtious  have  lately  been  made  to  give  to  the 
University  a  higher  rank  in  .science  and  literature  ; 


and,  as  the  first  and  best  ju-ejiaratory  step,  several 
men  of  talent  and  erudition  havi'  been  called  to  fill 
the  vacant  chairs.  The  library  of  the  University 
contains  nearly  :it),(KH)  volumes,  (including  the  li- 
brary of  Erasmus,)  besides  a  immber  of  valuable 
manuscri])ts,  and  |)ictures  (»f  Holbein,  There  are 
also  preserved  in  it  an  inmiense  number  of  Roman 
medals,  and  a  considerable  a.ssortment  of  other  an- 
ti(iuities  and  natural  curiosities,  none  of  which, 
however,  seemed  to  me  to  possess  very  high  in- 
terest. 

Basil  is  quite  a  commercial  city  ;  and  its  situa- 
tion, between  P^rance,  Germany,  and  Switzerland, 
is  very  favourable  to  commercial  enterprise.  The 
manufactures  of  Basil  are  chiefly  of  silk  and  ri- 
bands, and  these  occupy  upwards  of  3000  hands. 
There  are  also  some  mamifactories  of  excellent  paper 
in  Basil.  The  Canton  of  Basil  contains  about  twelve 
square  geographical  miles,  and  about  4I>,(K)0  inha- 
bitants, professing  the  Protestant  religion,  with  the 
exception  of  between  5  and  6000.  Like  all  the 
other  Swiss  Cantons,  the  occupations  of  tin-  inha- 
bitants vary  with  the  nature  of  the  country  in  which 
they  live.  In  the  mountainous  parts,  which,  how- 
ever, form  the  smallest  part  of  the  canton,  they 
are  employed  in  the  feeding  of  cattle,  and  in  the 
])reparation  of  cheese  ;  while  in  those  parts  skirt- 
ing the  Rhine,  wuie,  grain,  and  fruit  arc  culti- 
vated. 

The  great  council  of  the  Canton  consists  of  1 50 
members,  and  exercises  the  sovereign  power.  This 
great  council  elects  two  smaller  councils,  composed 
of  its  ow  n  members  ; — one  of  twenty-five,  which  exe- 
cutes the  laws — and  the  other  of  twelve  members, 
which  exercises  the  judicatory  power.  In  Basil, 
no  families  possess  any  exclusive  privileges,  all  the 
citizens  enjoying  equally  political  rights.  The 
clergy  of  the  Reformed  Church  are  all  upon  an 
equality  ;  and  the  affairs  of  the  church  are  ma- 
naged l)y  a  genenil  assembly  of  its  members, 
assisted  by  scnno  of  the  laity,  who,  as  magistrates, 
have  a  right  to  a  seat. 

Throughout  the  cantons  of  Basil  and  Argovie, 
farming  out  land  is  unknown,  with  the  exception 
of  gai'dens  near  the  large  towns.  The  properties 
of  those  who  aiv  considered  respectable  Swiss  pea- 
sants (for  all  proprietors  who  are  not  noble  are 
called  peasants),  run  from  ten  up  to  forty,  or  at  most 
fifty  acres  ;  and  good  land  is  con.sidered  to  yield 
ten  per  cent,  profit.  Many  of  the  peasants  have 
amassed  considerable  fortunes  ;  but  accession  of 
fortune  is  never  made  apjiarent  in  their  mode  of 
living.  From  KM)/,  to  'MH\f.  j»er  annum  is  the  usual 
range  of  expenditun'  ia-  persons  living,  as  we 
woulil  say,  in  easy  circumstances  ;  and  I  learned 
from  authority  that  admits  of  n(»  doubt,  that  not  a 
single  individual  in  all  Switzerland  spends  1000/. 
per  annum.  Transference  of  land  is  not  usual  in 
the  Cantons  of  Basil  or  Argovie  ;  but  when  it  is 
])rought  to  the  market,  :ifi,00()  square  feet  of  good 
land  will  bring  about  50/.  sterling.  All  Ian<l  pays 
one-tenth  part  of  the  produce  to  government  in 
name  of  taxes. 

I  left  liasil  for  Zurich  soon  after  sunrise.  The 
road  for  at  least  ten  miles  lies  along  the  south  bank 
of  the  Rhine,  and  pa.sses  through  a  country  rich  in 
gi-ain,  aiil  thickly  stucMed  with  cherry,  apple,  and 
walnut  trees  ;  the  north  baid<  of  the  Rhine,  e\|>osed 
to  the  sun,  being  covend  with  vineyards.  1  stopped 
to  breakfast  at  a  small  inn  by  the  river  side  ;  an  1 


i 


I 


CHAP.  T. 


ZURICH. 


3 


while  breakfast  was  preparing,  T  walked  into  the 
church-yard  close  by,  where  1  found  not  only  the 
usual  crosses,  and  tlie  complement  of  fresli  flowers, 
but  also  a  small  wooden  vessel,  upon  each  grave, 
half  full  of  water,  which,  upon  inquiry,  I  found  to 
be  holy  water — sadly  adulterated,  I  fear,  by  the 
heavy  rain  that  had  fallen  the  night  before. 

Before   reaching    Brugge,   a  small   town    lying 
about  two  leagues  from  Baden,  where  I  intended 
passing  the  night.  I  caught  the  first  di.stant  view  of 
the  snow-clad  Alps  of  Glarus,  distiniiuishable  from 
the  clouds  only  by  their  greater  whiteness.     From 
Brugge,  the  road  lies  all  the  way  by  the  side  of  the 
Limmat,  which  runs  a  short  and  rapid  course  from 
the  Lake  of  Zurich  to  the  Rhine.     The  country 
through  which  I  passed  was  truly  charming  :  pic- 
turesque villages  climbed  up  every  declivity  ;  white 
churches,  with  tapering  green  s])ires,  topped  every 
height.     The  course  of  the  river  was_  through  a 
succession  of  little  plains,  among  which  it  coquetted 
from  one  side  to  the  other  ;  and  these,  rich  in  grain 
or  herbage,  were  bounded  by   charming   slopes, 
bearing  vines  below,  and  clothed  with  wood  above. 
About  six  o'clock,  I  walked  into  Baden,  where,  at 
the  sign  of  the  Lion,  I  found  an  excellent  supper  in 
preparation  for  a  wedding-party,  which  had  come 
from  Zurich  to  make  merry  at  Baden  ; — and  there 
was  a  o-ood  reason  for  this — dancimj  is  not  permitted 
in  the  Canton  of  Zurich,  unless  by  special  permission 
of  the  government  ;  and  this  is  almost  always  re- 
fused.    In  order  that  the  pleasure  of  a  dance  may 
be  enjoyed  without  incurring  the  penalties,  a  certain 
number  of  persons  must  subscribe  a  paper  decla- 
ratory of  their  intention.     This  is  handed  to  the 
council  ;  and  if  the  conservators  of  public  morals 
hi  the  Canton  of  Zurich  thmk  the  dance  may  be 
allowed,  and  the  republic  preserved  in  purity  not- 
withstanding, permission  is  accorded.  But  I  learned 
from   the   very  best  authority,  that  a  refusal   is 
generally  the  result.    The  marriage  party  at  Baden, 
however,  free  from  the  restraints  of  Zurich,  seemed 
to  enjoy  their  privileges  ;  and  while  they  continued 
their  festivities,  I  walked  to  the  .summit  of  a  neigh- 
bouring hill,  crowned  by  a  ruined  chateau,  and 
then  wandered  till  supper-time  among  the  adjacent 
heights,  through  some  charming  paths,  where   I 
gathered  columbine  ;   periwinkle,  white,  blue  and 
purple  ;    thyme  ;    sweetbriar  ;    mint ;    and   sweet- 
william — all  growing  wild. 

A  pleasant  and  lively  party  at  supper  was  an 
agreeable  finisli  to  the  evening.  The  bridegroom 
gallantly  replaced  upon  the  head  of  his  bride  the 
garland' <»f  white  flovvcr.s,  which  had  been  laid  aside 
previous  to  the  dance  ;  and  I  could  not  help  remark- 
ing, that  in  the  behaviour  and  bearing  of  the  bride, 
there  was  certainly  k^ss  cnthdrrdf  than  would  have 
been  .shown  by  an  English  girl  upon  a  like  occasion. 
In  saying  this,  1  do  not  mean  it  as  a  com})Iiment  to 
the  English  ;  it  is  a  mere  fact,  and  may  be  taken 
either  way  ;  for  modesty  or  aftectation  might  pro- 
duce tlu'  like  result. 

The  Baden  of  which  1  am  speaking,  I  need 
scarcely  say,  is  not  the  Baden-Baden  frc(iucnted  by 
the  English  ;  but  tlie  Swiss  Baden  Is  also  a  water- 
ing place,  and  much  fre<iuente(l  by  the  inliabitants 
of  Basil,  Zurich,  and  other  places  in  the  north  of 
Switzerland.  The  V)aths  are  situated  at  a  very 
.short  distance  from  the  town,  upon  the  bank  of  the 
Liunnat  ;  and  a  immber  of  pUa.sant  cottages,  for 
the  use  of  strangers,  are  scattered  uj)on  the  neigh- 


bouring heights.  The  waters  are  sulphurous,  and 
are  much  recommended  in  rheumatism.  I  was 
told  that  at  the  Hotel  du  Statdorf  there  are  some- 
times as  many  as  seventy  or  eighty  persons  assem- 
bled at  dinnei;  ;  and  as  dancing  is  permitted  in  the 
Canton  of  Argovie,  there  are  balls  once  a  week.  I 
should  think  Swiss  Baden  a  pleasant  place  to  spend 
a  week  or  two  in,  with  an  agreeable  })arty. 

The  Canton  of  Argovie,  in  which  Baden  is  situ- 
ated, is  one  of  the  most  fruitful  uf  the  cantons  ;  and 
this  is  the  only  one  in  which  more  grain  is  grown 
than  is  consumed  within  it.  Argovie,  now  one  of 
the  federative  body,  belonged  formerly  to  Berne, 
Zurich,  and  Baden*  and  has  only  been  independent 
since  the  year  1798.  The  population  of  this  canton 
is  equally  divided  between  catholics  and  protest- 
ants  ;  and  from  this  arises  the  law,  by  which  its 
supreme  council  must  consist  of  •members  of  both 
religions  in  equal  numbers. 

With  the  bright  morning  sun  for  my  companion, 
I  It  ft  Baden  for  Zurich.  I  breakfasted  at  Dieteken, 
a  little  village  about  two  leagues  distant,  where  I 
had  great  pleasure  in  hearing  of  the  excellent  feel- 
ing that  exists  between  the  protestant  and  catholic 
inhabitants,  and  the  absence  of  bigotry  and  preju- 
dice by  whicli  both  are  distinguished.  One  church 
serves  both  for  the  worship  of  God.  The  cathoUc 
of  Dieteken  does  not  feel  that  his  prayer  will  be 
less  acceptable,  because  the  prayer  of  a  heretic 
rises  from  the  same  .shrine  ;  nor  does  the  protestant 
fear  the  displeasure  of  God,  because  he  others  his 
devotions  in  a  temple  consecrated  to  the  Romish 
faith.  Would  that  all  catholic  priests  were  like  the 
priest  of  Dieteken,  and  that  all  protestants  were 
tolerant  as  those  who  worship  in  the  same  temple 

with  his  flock  ! 

I  reached  Zurich  before  mid-day,  and  intending 
to  remain  a  week  or  ten  days  in  the  neiglil)Ourhood, 
I  immediately  made  m}'  \n  ay  towards  the  lake,  in 
the  hope  of  finding  some  agreeable  place  to  reside 
in.  Never  was  search  more  fortunate  ;  for  in  a 
charming  house,  situated  close  to  the  lake,  and 
surrounded  by  the  most  beautiful  scenery,  I  found 
precisely  what  I  desired ;  and,  as  some  guide  for 
future  travellers,  I  may  mention,  that  I  there  put 
myself  en  pension,  at  the  rate  of  three  francs  and  a 
half,  or  about  three  shillings  per  day  ;  and  for  this 
I  had  breakfast,  duiner  and  supper,  a  charming 
apartment,  and  the  use  of  a  boat.  While  resident 
hei-e,  I  enjoyed  ample  opportunities  of  observation  ; 
and  in  the  next  chapter  I  purpose  si)eaking  at  some 
length  of  the  city,  the  lake,  the  canton,  and  the 
people  of  Zurich. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  TOWN,  LAKE,  AND  CANTON  OF  ZLIUCH. 

Tlie  Pilgrims  of  Einsiedeln— Extraordinarj'  Industrj"  of  the 
Inhabitants  of  Zurich  in  the  Cultivation  of  the  Soil,  and 
Proofs  of  it— Zurich  Society  and  Amusements— General 
aspect  of  the  Town,  its  Edifices,  &c.-Zurich  as  a  Resi- 
dence, Price  of  Provisions,  &c.-Tlie  Lai^e.  and  its  Scenery 
-An  Evening  Prospect-Swiss  Music-Constitution  of 
the  Canton,  and  Domestic  Economy  of  the  Inhabitants- 
Excursions  to  the  Neighbourhood-The  Grioffen  bee. 

Before  entering  upon  my  new  residence,  1  returned 
to  the  town,  to  make  some  little  preparations  ;  and 
here  a  spectacle  awaited  me,  which  quickly  put  to 
flight  the  pleasant  images  that  had  dwelt  m  my 
"  B  2 


ZURICH. 


CHAP.   II. 


-hr 


mind  since  breakfasting  at  Diet<?ken— the  village  of 
concord,  light,  and  charity.  The  quay  at  Zurich 
was  crowded  with  a.  Iiost  of  miserable-looking  beings, 
whose  dress  and  aspect  at  once  distinguished  them 
from  the  inhabitants  of  the  canton.  They  were 
mostly  women  ;  their  hats  were  of  bright  yellow 
straw  ;  their  garments,  a  union  of  rags  ;  a  scrip, 
uitii  seemingly  scanty  provision,  hung  over  the 
shoulder  of  each  ;  and  in  the  hand  of  each  was  a 
rosary.  Several  boats  were  preparing  to  receive 
them  :  and  they  were  soon,  to  the  number  of  at 
least  a  hundred,  disjKised  in  the  difterent  boats,  and 
were  immediately  rowed  down  the  lake.  These 
were  pilgrims — poor,  misguided,  deceived  pilgrims 
— who  were  on  their  way  to  the  church  of  Our 
Lady  at  Einsiedeln,  in  the  Canton  of  Schwytz,  to 
pay  their  adorations  to  a  miraculous  image  of  the 
Virgin,  and  to  receive  absolution.  They  had,  many 
of  them,  come  from  distant  parts  of  France,  Ger- 
many, and  even  Belgium.  They  had  left  home  and 
friends,  and  what  to  them  were  doubtless  comforts, 
to  journey  upon  foot  some  hundreds  of  miles,  and 
to  spend  upon  this  pilgrimage  the  savings  of  years. 
Those  have  a  heavy  account  to  answer,  who  have 
aided  the  delusion  of  tliese  misenible  devotees.  I 
shall  speak  farther  of  Einsiedeln  when  I  have 
visited  it. 

In  walking  anywhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Zuricii — in  looking  to  the  right  or  to  the  left — one 
is  struck  with  the  extraordinary  industry  of  the  in- 
habitants ;  and  if  we  learn  that  a  proprietor  here 
has  a  I'eturn  of  ten  per  cent.,  we  are  inclined  to  say, 
"  he  deserves  it."  1  speak  at  ])resent  of  country 
labour,  though  I  believe  that,  in  every  kind  of  trade 
also,  the  people  of  Zurich  are  remarkable  for  their 
assiduity  ;  but  in  the  industry  they  show  in  the  cul- 
tivation of  their  land,  I  may  safely  say  they  are  un- 
rivalI(Hl,  When  I  used  to  open  my  casement  between 
four  and  five  in  the  morning,  to  look  out  upon  the 
lake  and  the  distant  Alps,  I  saw  the  labourer  in  the 
fields  ;  and  when  I  returned  from  an  evening  walk, 
long  after  sun-set,  as  late,  perhaps,  as  half  {)ast  eight, 
there  was  the  labourer,  mowing  his  grass  or  tying 
up  his  vines.  But  there  are  other  and  better  evi- 
dences of  the  industry  of  the  Zurichers,  than  merely- 
seeing  them  late  and  early  at  work.  It  is  imp(>s- 
sible  to  look  at  a  field,  a  garden,  a  hedging,  scarcely 
even  a  tree,  a  tlower,  or  a  vegetable,  without  per- 
ceiving proofs  of  the  extreme  cure  and  industry  that 
are  bestowed  upon  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  If,  for 
example,  a  path  leads  through  or  by  the  side  of  a 
field  of  grain,  the  corn  is  not,  aa  hi  England,  per- 
mitted to  hang  over  the  path,  exposed  to  be  pulled 
or  trodden  down  by  every  passer-by  ;  it  is  every 
where  bounded  by  a  fence  ;  stakes  are  placed  at 
intervals  of  about  a  yard  ;  and,  about  two  and  four 
feet  from  the  ground,  boughs  of  trees  are  passed 
longitudinally  along.  If  you  look  into  a  field  to- 
wards evening,  where  there  are  large  beds  of  cauli- 
flower or  cabbage,  you  will  find  that  every  single 
plant  has  been  watered.  In  the  gardens,  which, 
around  Zurich,  are  extremely  large,  the  most  punc- 
tilious care  is  evinced  in  every  production  that 
grows.  The  vegetables  are  planted  with  seemingly 
mathematical  accuracy  ;  not  a  single  weed  is  to  be 
seen,  nor  a  single  stone.  Plants  are  not  earthed  up, 
as  with  us,  but  are  planteil  in  a  small  hollow,  into 
each  of  which  a  little  manure  is  put,  and  each  plant 
is  watered  daily.  Where  seeds  are  sown,  the  earth 
directly  above  is  broken   into  i!m-  finest   powder. 


Every  shrub,  every  flower,  is  tied  to  a  stake  ;  and 
where  there  is  wall-fruit,  a  trellice  is  erected  against 
the  wall,  to  which  the  boughs  are  fastened  ;  and 
there  is  not  a  single  twig  that  has  not  its  appro- 
priate resting-place. 

In  Zurich  it  is  all  work  and  no  play  ;  there  are 
no  amusements  of  any  kind,  nor  probably  do  the 
inhabitants  feel  the  want  of  them.  There  is  no 
theatre,  there  are  no  })ublic  concerts  ;  balls,  in  a 
canton  where  leave  to  dance  must  be  asked,  ai'e  out 
of  the  question.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  visiting 
indeed  among  the  inhabitants  ;  but  it  consists  either 
in  dinner-parties,  to  which  relations  only  are  in- 
vited, and  which  take  place  at  stated  times  in  each 
other's  houses,  or  in  soirees,  the  amusement  of  w  Inch 
consists  in  tea  and  talk  for  the  ladies,  tobacco  and 
talk  for  the  gentlemen  ;  for  upon  no  occasion  do  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  mingle  together.  I  attended 
one  reunion  of  gentlemen,  but  I  never  attended  a 
second.  The  out-door  amusements  of  the  inhabit- 
ants are  scarcely  more  captivating  or  more  refined. 
About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house  in  which 
1  had  taken  my  pension,  a  celebrated  Am<7«/r  lived  ; 
a  fine  promenade  and  garden  skirted  the  lake,  and 
there  the  inhabitants  occasionally  repaired  in  the 
evening  to  enjoy  themselves.  This  enjoyment  con- 
sisted in  seating  themselves  upon  benches,  and  eat- 
ing, drinking,  and  smoking.  On  Ascension-day,  a 
jour  de  f!te,  several  hundreds  were  assembled,  and 
all  seemingly  for  the  same  purpose.  Some  had  hot 
suppers,  some  cold  ;  but  the  business  of  the  even- 
ing was  eating.  How  difierently  would  such  an 
eveiiing  have  been  spent  in  France  ! 

The  great  object  of  the  Zurichei*s  is  to  get  money  ; 
and,  when  they  have  got  it,  their  great  ambition  is 
to  l)uild  a  countrj'-house.  It  is  to  these  two  pas- 
sions that  the  Lake  of  Zurich  is  so  much  indebted 
for  its  beauty,  for  none  <»f  the  other  Swiss  lakes  can 
boast  of  so  great  a  number  of  charming  country- 
houses  upon  their  banks.  The  society  of  Zurich 
used,  in  former  times,  to  be  divided  into  three 
(jrades : — 1st,  the  magistracy  or  councillors  ;  2d, 
those  of  the  learned  i>rofessions,  and  men  of  educa- 
tion ;  and  3d,  the  merchants,  among  which  last  class 
there  were  of  course  many  distinctions  ;  but  at  pre- 
sent, riches  have  got  the  ascendancy,  and  distinc- 
tion in  wealth  is  the  chief  distinction  of  rank  known 
in  Zurich.  Literature,  however,  has  kept  its  place 
in  Zurich  ;  and  no  where  perhaps  in  Europe  is 
the  study  of  the  classics  more  general  than  in  this 
city.  The  French  and  English  languages  now  also 
form  part  of  a  good  education.  The  language  spoken 
in  Zurich  is  an  abominable  patois  ;  but  good  Ger- 
man is  every  where  understood,  and  spoken  upon 
occasions.  If,  for  example,  a  stranger  should  ap- 
pear in  society,  every  one  speaks  German  ;  but  the 
moment  he  retires,  patois  is  again  resorted  to.  There 
are  in  Zurich  two  newspapers  publi.shed  ;  one  ap- 
pearing weekly,  the  other  twice  a  week  ;  and  there 
is  also  a  monthly  literary  journal. 

The  general  aspect  of  Zurich  is  more  interesting 
than  its  public  edifices,  though  these  are  not  to  be 
altogether  passed  over.  The  situation  of  the  town 
at  the  foot  of  the  lake,  and  the  two  rivers  that  flow 
through  it,  cannot  fail  to  give  to  Zurich  much  of 
the  picturesque  ;  and  although  the  streets  are  but 
indifferently  built,  the  suburbs  abound  in  hand- 
some houses  and  charming  gardens.  The  inhabit- 
ants pique  themselves  upon  the  beauty  of  their  pro- 
menades, and  with  some  rea.son.     One,  called  the 


I 

* 


CHAP.  II.] 


ZURICH. 


walk  of  Gesner,  is  a  frequent  resort  of  the  upper 
classes  ;  but  there  needs  no  other  promenade  than 
the  roads  which  skirt  the  lake. 

Among  other  places  pointed  out  to  strangers 
as  worthy  of  notice,  I  visited  the  arsenal,  where  one 
mav  receive  a  lesson  of  humility,  in  attempting  to 
wield  the  swords,  and  to  carry  the  armour,  borne 
by  the  warriors  of  other  days.  1,  of  course,  handled 
the  bow  said  to  be  the  bow  of  William  Tell ;  and  the 
identical  arrow  that  pierced  the  api)le  is  also  shown. 
I  cannot  conceive  of  what  materials  the  sinews  of 
that  distinguished  patriot  were  made  ;  for  the  dege- 
nerate men  of  our  time  are  obliged  to  use  a  machine, 
with  the  power  of  the  lever,  to  draw  the  cord  even 
half  way  to  the  point  at  which  the  arrow  is  dis- 
charged. There  is  a  vast  collection  of  ancient  armour 
preserved,  and  modern  equipments  for  more  than 
all  the  able-bodied  men  in  the  canton. 

The  city  library  I  found  a  spacious  airy  building, 
containing  about  70,000  volumes,  well  arranged,  and 
in  excellent  condition.  Here,  one  may  see  pictures 
of  all  the  burgomasters  that  ever  swayed  the  rod  of 
office.  Here,  also,  is  a  marble  bust  of  Lavater,  the 
most  ingenious  of  philosophers  ;  and  here  is  a  bas- 
relief  of  a  great  part  of  Switzerland,  by  which,  if 
one  were  allowed  time  to  study  it,  the  traveller 
might  be  saved  the  expense  of  either  guides  or  road- 
books. I  saw  no  other  edifice  worthy  of  mention- 
ing, excepting  the  tower  of  Wellenberg,  which  is 
situated  in  the  middle  of  the  river  Limmat,  where  it 
flows  out  of  the  lake.  No  place  could  have  been 
better  contrived  for  a  prison  than  this.  It  is  now 
used  as  the  prison  for  capital  felons,  and  in  former 
times  enclosed  within  its  walls  the  Count  Hans  de 
Habsbourgh  the  Count  of  Rapperschwyl,  and  many 
other  important  state  prisoners. 

It  would  not  be  fair  to  pass  entirely  over  the 
claims  of  the  people  of  Zurich  to  public  spirit  and 
benevolence.  There  are  various  institutions  for  the 
cure  of  moral  and  physical  evil,  and  for  the  culture 
of  intellect.  There  is  an  academy  in  which  theo- 
logy, and  various  other  branches  of  philosophy,  are 
taught ;  another  academy  where  students  are  pre- 
pared for  entering  into  the  foi'nier  ;  an  mstitution 
for  the  medical  sciences  and  for  surgery  ;  another 
for  the  education  of  merchants  ;  an  institution  for 
the  instruction  of  the  deaf  and  dumb,  and  for  the 
blind,  the  model  of  which  wa.s  considered  so  excel- 
lent, that  Napoleon  formed  that  of  Paris  upon  it  ; 
an  academy  of  artists  ;  an  academy  of  music ;  a 
society  called  the  Swiss  Society  of  Public  Utility  ; 
and  many  schools  for  instruction  in  languages,  and 
for  the  education  of  the  poor.  This  is  a  fine  cata- 
logue ;  but  the  number  of  persons  composing  these 
societies  is  small,  and  several  of  them  scarcely  exist 
l)ut  in  name.  The  funds  necessary  for  their  main- 
tenance do  not  therefore  trench  very  much  upon 
the  riches  of  the  merchants  of  Zurich,  though  in 
some  of  these  institutions,  particularly  in  that  for 
the  care  and  instruction  of  the  blind,  they  feel  so 
nmch  pride,  that  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in 
obtaining  double  the  sum  required  for  its  mainte- 
nance. 

To  those  who  are  desirous  of  selecting  an  agree- 
able and  cheap  residence,  I  dare  not  recommend 
Zurich.  Agreeable  it  is  indeed  in  one  sense — I 
mean,  as  regards  the  beauty  of  the  neighbourhood  ; 
but  a  winter's  residence  could  not  be  otherwise  than 
tru^te,  in  a  city  where  anmsement  is  confounded  with 
crime,  and  where  men  and  women  have  no  inter- 


course in  society  ;  and  as  for  the  expense  of  living, 
if  house-rent  were  out  of  the  question,  one  might 
live  cheap  enough  at  Zurich,  or  in  its  neighbour- 
hood. Beef  usually  sells  about  3d.  per  lb.,  mutton 
about  24d.,  and  veal  a  penny  higher.  Fowls  ave- 
rage about  Is.  6d.  per  pair.  Butter,  when  I  was  at 
Zurich,  sold  at  7d.  per  lb.,  and  eggs  two  dozen  for 
lOd. ;  but  these  are  articles  the  price  of  which 
varies  with  the  season.  Fish  sold  at  no  less  than 
lOd.  per  lb. ;  but  this  must  be  far  above  the  ave- 
rage price,  as  certain  fisheries  were  at  that  season 
forbidden.  As  for  fruit  and  vegetables,  both  are 
abundant  and  cheap,  with  the  exce])tion  of  aspara- 
gus, which  is  brought  all  the  way  from  Basil.  But 
the  reasonable  price  at  whicli  most  of  the  necessa- 
ries of  life  may  be  obtained  at  Zurich,  is  more  than 
neutralized  by  the  high  rent  of  houses.  They  are, 
in  fact,  scarcely  to  be  had  at  all ;  and  if  some  pro- 
prietor of  a  maison  de  cximpahjne  should  be  tempted, 
by  his  belief  in  English  alchemy,  to  let  his  house  to 
a  stranger,  he  will  ask  at  least  three  times  the  sum 
that  would  command  the  same  accommodation  in 
England.  For  a  small  house  pleasantly  situated, 
containing  five  or  six  rooms,  and  without  any  gar- 
den, 80/.  sterling  will  be  asked  ;  and  the  proprietor 
will  not  abate  a  florin  of  his  demand. 

It  is  the  lake  that  must  ever  be  the  chief  pride 
of  Zurich,  and  the  attraction  to  strangei-s  ;  and, 
living  as  I  did,  close  to  its  marghi,  I  had  ample 
opportunities  of  appreciating  its  beauty,  and  of 
visiting  the  many  charming  sites  that  lie  along  its 
shores.  The  lake  of  Zurich  is  the  Winandermere 
of  Switzerland  ;  its  character  is  beauty — beauty  of 
the  very  highest  order,  but  mingled  with  the  pic- 
turesque ;  and  although  the  banks  of  the  lake  never 
approach  the  sublime,  yet  the  snow  and  cloud-capt 
Alps  of  Glarus  and  Uri  rise  above  them,  and  f'^rm 
a  back-ground  such  as  Switzerland  alone  can  offer. 
I  cannot  do  better  than  slightly  sketch  the  lake 
from  the  window  at  which  I  am  now  sitting.  It 
stretches  out  before  me  in  a  fine  curve  of  about 
fourteen  miles.  A  moment  ago  it  was  entirely  still, 
touched  only  by  some  light  airs  that  here  and 
there  crept  over  its  surface.  Now  a  slight  breath  of 
wind  has  fanned  it  into  a  ripple  ;  and  the  boats, 
scattered  up  and  down,  have  raised  their  little  sails, 
and  may  be  seen  gently  gliding  past  the  trees.  The 
opposite  bank,  all  the  way  along,  slopes  gently  from 
the  water  ;  and  the  lake  not  being  more  than  a 
mile  or  two  broad,  I  can  distinctly  see  every  enclo- 
sure, and  can  distinguish  the  vineyards,  the  gar- 
dens, the  meadows,  and  the  corn-fields  from  each 
other.  The  whole  of  the  slope  is  thickly  studded 
with  white  cottages  and  country-houses  ;  and  I  can 
count  four  churches  with  reddish-coloured  tapering 
spires,  half  way  up  the  slope,  the  villages  straggling 
down  to  the  water's  edge.  Behind  this  slope,  and 
separated  from  it  by  a  nan'ow  valley,  rise  the  heights 
of  Albis,  about  800  or  1000  feet  above  the  Lake, 
rocky,  and  wooded  to  the  summit.  Below  my 
window,  a  beautiful  plain  about  two  miles  square, 
stretches  back  from  the  lake,  scattered  with  fruit 
trees,  and  broken  into  gardens  and  meadows,  in 
which  the  hay-harvest  is  begun  ;  and  behind  this 
plain,  and  along  the  lake-side,  orchards,  vineyards, 
almond-tree  groves,  cottages  and  villages,  are  all 
touched  with  gold,  for  the  sun  is  nigh  setting  ;  and 
there  is  a  charming  tran<iuillity  over  all  the  land- 
scape. I  cannot  see  the  foot  of  the  lake  from  my 
window,  else  I  would  describe  the  effect  of  the  city 


it 


ZURICH. 


[chap.  II. 


of  Zurich  risini-  out  of  the  water  ;  but  I  see  what 
is  far  more  inugniHcent,  but  far  beyond  my  powers 
of  description.  1  see  tlie  momitams  of  Glarus  and 
Uri  rising  above  all.  It  is  somethinpr  if  a  Nvxiter 
know  thr  limits  of  his  strength.  To  this  praise  I 
lay  claim,  for  1  leave  the  Alps  to  their  silence  and 

solitude.  ,  .,     T        •  1    1  u     *i,^ 

Scarcely  a  day  passed,  while  I  resided  by  the 

lake-side,  upon  which  one  or  more  boats  were  not 
seen  filled  with  pil^'rims  on  tluir  way  to  Einsiedeln. 
A  monotonous  muttering  of  prayer  came  over  the 
water,  according  ill  with  the  smiling  scenery  around, 
and  the  glorious  sunshine  that  lighted  them  on  their 
wav,  and  in  strange  and  disagreeable  contrast  with 
the  Swiss  echo-song,  which  had  just  arisen  from  a 
boat  freighted  with  light  hearts,  and  with  the  notes 
of  a  sweet  pipe  Heating  from  the  opposite  shore. 
Boats  laden  with  i>ilgnms  passed  from,  as  well  as 
to,  Einsiedeln  ;  but  tlie  laugh  and  the  jest,  instead 
of'the  prayer,  were  heard  among  them  ;  for  they 
had  bowed  at  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady,  and  had  no 
m(m-  occasion  for  ]trayer  ! 

The  Swiss  nuisie  of  this  ])art  of  Switzerland  is 
not  entitled  to  much  commendation.  1  had  several 
opportunities  of  hearing  what  were  considered  the 
ehoicest  airs  ;  but  they  appeared  to  me  to  be  mono- 
tonous ;  nor  were  thev  executed  in  the  best  taste. 
Probably,  as  I  get  farther  into  tlu*  country,  I  may 
find  reason  to  speak  in  higher  terms  of  Swiss 
nuisie. 

The  historv  of  tin-  city  of  Zurich  possesses  some 
interest.  After  having*  had  the  honour  to  be  en- 
trusted with  the  direction  of  the  inten'sts  of  the 
Swiss  Confederation,  it  allied  itself  with  Austria, 
and  was  besieged  by  its  former  allies  ;  but,  subs(>- 
(juently,  it  made  its  peace  with  the  confederates, 
and  was  restored  to  its  fm-mer  rank,  and  afterwards 
justified  fully  the  confidence  placed  in  it,  by  the 
eoura"e  its  eiti/ens  displiiyed  in  the  wars  in  wliieh 
the  confederation  was  engaged  against  Burgundy, 
Austria,  and  the  French.  In  t]w  history  of  the 
reformation,  too,  Zurich  is  distinguished  ;  for, 
about  the  same  period  at  which  Luther  pronuiigated 
his  doctrines  in  Germany,  Zwingli  stood  uj)  the 
champion  of  the  reformation  at  Zurich,  which 
soon  became  the  centre  of  the  new  doctrines  in 
Switzerland. 

The  canton  stands  the  first  in  the  confed(>ration  ; 
and,  along  with  Lucerne  and   Berne,  it  enjoys  the 
honour  of  being  invested  with  the  lu-esidency  every 
fifth  year.     The  inhabitants,  with  but  trifling  ex- 
ceptions, ])rofess  the   proti'stant  religion  ;    and,  to 
their  gen(>ral  character  for  industry  and  modera- 
tion,   I    need    add    nothing  to  the   proofs    I    have 
already  given.     None  of  tin-   Swiss  eant<jns  is  so 
little  under  the  yoke  of  superstition  as  Zurieh.   The 
produce  of  the   soil   is  not  the   only  source  of  the 
prosperity    of    this    canton  ;    there   are    extensive 
manufactories  of  cotton-stutis,  nuislins,   silks  and 
cloths,   occupying  upwards  of  oO,(KH)  hands.       In 
this  canton,  as  in  Basil,  good  land  riturns  ten  per 
cent.  ;  and  transference  of  property  is  rare.    Large 
estates  are    sometinu>s  in  tht>  market,   but    small 
properties  almost  never,  because  every  one    pos- 
sessing a  few   acres  of  land,  hopes  some  day  or 
other  "to  build  a  house  upon  his  property.     As  in 
Basil,  too,  a  tenth  of  the  produce  is  claimed  by  the 
government  ;  and   there  is,  besides,  a   tritling  tax 
for  the  support  of  the  militia.   In  this  eanton,  as  well 
as  in  some  others  in  Switzerland,  every  individual 


is  obliged  by  law  to  insure  his  house— a  law  in 
which  there  appears  to  be  much  wisdom.  The  sum 
paid  for  insurance  is  extremely  trifling,  being  only 
one  two-thousundth  part  (10s.)  upon  1000/. 

The  great  council  of  Zui'ich  consists  of  212  mem- 
bers, of  whom  eighty-two  are  elected  in  the  first  in- 
stance, the  remaining'  \'M)  bcincr  elected  by  the  coun- 
cil itself.  The  executive  and  judicatory  councils 
are  the  same,  both  in  numbei-s  and  in  powers,  as  in 
the  Canton  of  Basil.  The  regulation  of  the  church 
is  also  similar  to  that  of  Basil. 

While  residing  on  tin.'  banks  of  the  lake,  I  made 
many  delightful  excursiims  both  by  land  and  water. 
It  is  impossible  to  walk  in  any  direction,  without 
catching  images  of  beauty  at  every  glance,  or  to 
make  a  few   strokes  with  your  oai-s  from   shore, 
without  the  most  nivishing  view  being  laid  open. 
On  every  part  of  the  neighbouring  heights,  too, 
upon  either  side  of  the  lake,  the  most  charming 
prospect  is  enjoyed,— none   more   charming   than 
that  from  the  rums  of  the  Castle  of  Manueck,  for- 
merly a  favourite   rendezvous  of  the  troubadoui-s, 
at  the  epoch  when  Roger  Marmes  was  its  possessor. 
Little  more   than   the  walls  are  now  left  to  recall 
those  images  of  romance  ;    but  Roger  Mamies  and 
his  companions  must  have  enjoyed  rare  pleasure, 
listening  to  the  war  and  love  songs  of  their  days,  and 
at  the  same  time  looking  from  the  windftws  of  the 
chateau  upon  a  scene  so  lovely  as  that  which  lies  at 
its  feet  ;  nor  could  they  have  much  to  complain  of, 
if  they  had  no  other  wine  to  drink  than  that  pro- 
duced upon  the  east   bank  of  the  lake.      It  is  very 
pale,  but   with  a  slight    vermillion   tint,  pleasant  in 
flavour,  and  not  wanting  in  strength.    For  the  wine 
which  I  drunk,  and  which  was  eight  years  old,  I 
paid  twelve  sous.      \Vh<n   speaking  of  the   lake,   I 
omitted  to  say,  that  the  colour  of  its   waters  eorre- 
sponds  with  the  eharacter  of  the  surrounding  scenery. 
Tlu-  dark  luu'  of  the  water  of  some  lakes,  is  in  per- 
fect unison  with  the  sublime  images  that  lie  around  ; 
but  the  clear  blue  of  the  lake;  of  Ztirich  harnu.nizes 
perfectly  with  the  gay  character  of  the   laiidseape. 
T\\v  reason  is  obvious  ;  depth   is  a  sourci'  of  sub- 
limity, as  well  as  height,  and  their  union  is  natural. 
The 'lake    of   Zuricli,  for   several  hundred   yards 
from   its  banks,  is  seld<tm  more  than  from  six   to 
twelve  feet  deep.      It  te<ins  with  fish,  which,  owing 
to  the  extreme  clearness  of  the  water,  are  seen  in 
all   their  number  and  variity.      It  used  to  amuse 
me  much,  when  breakfasting  close  to  the  lake,  as  I 
did  every  morning,  to  see  the  fishes  disputing  pos- 
session of  the  crumbs  which  I  threw  to  them. 

To  the  Griefieii-See,  one  of  those  small  lakes 
which  lie  a  little  out  of  the  usual  road,  1  made  an 
excursion  from  Zurich.  It  is  about  two  leagues 
and  a  half  distant.  The  walk  to  it  afforded  many 
beautiful  views  over  the  lake  of  Zurich,  and  lay 
through  a  highly  fertile  and  picturestpn^  country. 
The  character  of  this  lake  also  is  beauty.  The 
banks  are  a  succission  of  knolls,  every  where  highly 
cultivated,  and  prettily  diversified.  The  lover  of 
eels  will  find  his  taste  gratified  at  the  small  auberge 
in  the  village  of  Mur.  So  high  a  reputation  do  the 
eels  of  the  (Jriefti'ii-See  enjoy,  and  so  well  is  this 
reputation  supported  by  the  aafHiyhtf  of  Mur,  that 
the  (/(tif?row(>j//.'.>' of  Zurich  occasionally  dedicate  a  day 
to  tiie  GriefiVn-See  and  its  eels.  Liki'  every  thing 
cooked  within  the  Canton  of  Zurieh,  to  me  they 
tasted  more  of  mace  than  any  thing  else.  Whatever 
one  eats  at  Zurich  has  this  fiavour  ;  fjecause  soup 


CHAP.  HI.] 


ZOUG. 


and  meat,  and  fish  and  vegetables,  and  preserved 
fruit,  are  all  prepared  with  quantities  of  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  TOWN,  LAKE,  AND  CANTON  OF  ZOUG. 

Walk  to  Zoug— More  Proofs  of  the  extraordinary  Industry 
of  tlie  Zurichers— An  Anecdote  that  may  teach  humility— 
The  Town  of  Zoug— Its  Inhabitants  and  Environs— A 
Hint  to  Phrenologists— Prices  of  Provisions  at  Zoug— 
Expenses  of  the  Government,  and  Constitution  of  the 
Canton— Return  to  Horgen. 

Before  leaving  Zurich,  I  devoted  a  few  days  to  an 
excursion  to   Zoug.     There  are  two  roads  from 
Zurich  to  Zoug  ;  one  following  the  margin  of  the 
lake  for  about  ten   miles,   to  a  little  town  called 
Horgen,  from  which  a  tolerable  road  leads  to  Zoug  ; 
the  "other    crossing   the  heights  of    Albis,    which 
run  parallel    with  the  lake.      I   chose  the  latter 
route,  purposing  to  return  by  the  other.     I  crossed 
the  lake  about  five  o'clock,  on  as  fine  a  May  morn- 
ing as  ever  dawned  upon  the  mountains  of  Switzer- 
land ;  and  at  so  early  an  hour  as  this,  I  found  the 
Zurich  militia  on  theh'  march  from  the  town  to  a 
field  at  some  little  distance,  where  a  review  was  to 
take  i)lace.    They  appeared  to  be  well-sized,  good- 
looking  men,  and   were  neatly  dressed   in   white 
trowsers,  and  short  blue  coats,  with  black  facings. 
In  walking  tlirough  the  fine  fertile  valley  that  lies 
beneath  the  heights  of  Albis,  I  found  new  proofs  of 
the  extraordinary   industry  of  the  inhabitants  of 
this  canton,  in  the  cultivation  of  their  land.     1  ob-^ 
served  a  field  of  lettuce,  containing  at  least  an  acre,* 
in  which  every  individual  plant  was  tied  round  the 
top,  to  prevent  it  running  to  waste,  and  to  preserve 
it  for  use.     Peas,  too,  which  are  not  planted  in 
rows,   but   in    little    clumps    about  a  foot   distant 
from  each  other,  were  bound  to  the  stake  that  sup- 
l)orted  each  clump,  by  three,  four,  or  five  thongs, 
according  to  the  height  of  the  plants,  which  in  rnany 
cases  rose  to  seven  and  eight  feet.     In  the  agricul- 
ture of  this    canton,  particularly  in  the  cultivation 
of  gardens,  there  is  one  thing  1  must  not  omit  to 
mention,   as  being   particularly    unpleasant    to    a 
stranger.     The  produce  of  the  byres  is  collected, 
and  emj)loyed  in  daily  libations  to  the  soil  ;  and  in 
the  distance  to  which  it  is  carried,  another  jn-oof  of 
industry  is  seen  ;  but  this  practice,  however  bene- 
ficially It  may  act  upon  vegetation,  acts  most  un- 
l>leasantly   u[)on  the  olfactory  nerves  of  one  who 
exjieets  in  walking  through  a  garden,  to  be  regaled 
by  the  sweet  perfume  of  fiowers. 

Many  charming  glimpses  are  caught  of  the  lake 
of  Zurich,  in  ascending  to  the  auberge  of  Albis, 
which  stands  about  1000  feet  above  the  lake,  and 
2'MH)  above  the  sea,  and  where  an  excellent  break- 
last  may  be  had — and  ought  to  be  enjoyed — after  a 
niornini;  walk  of  two  leaj^ues  and  a  half.  In  de- 
scending  the  other  side,  a  beautiful  mountain-lake 
is  discovered  to  the  right,  glistening  through  the 
firs  ;  and  the  lake  of  Zoug  is  seen  gleaming  in  the 
tlistance. 

In  walking  towards  Zoug,  a  little  circumstance 
occurred  that  helps  to  illustrate  the  difficulty  of 
pronouncing  a  foreign  language  correctly,  and  may 
suggest  a  doubt,  whether  our  proficiency  in  thisac- 
coinjilishnient  be  so  great  as  we  suppose  it  to  be. 
The  road  separated  into  two,  diverging  at  an  acute 


angle  ;  and  being  totally  at  a  loss  which  to  pui-sue, 
I  addressed  myself  to  three  young  persons  who 
were  standing  near,  pronouncing  the  word  Zoug, 
and  pointing  to  the  two  roads  ;  but,  though  one 
would  imagine  there  could  be  little  variety  in  the 
pronunciation  of  a  word  consisting  only  of  three  or 
four  lettei-s,  and  although  I  pronounced  it  in  every 
possible  way,  Zoug,  Zug  with  the  «  short,  and  Zug 
with  the  u  long,  I  could  not  make  myself  under- 
stood ;  at  length,  an  old  man  who  was  looking  out 
of  his  window,  heai'ing  that  something  unusual  was 
going  forward,  came  to  our  a.ssistance  ;  and,  by 
writing  the  word  with  a  pencil,  he  at  once  under- 
stood me  ;  and  then  all  the  four  exclaimed,  in  a 
tone  of  surprise,  "  Zoug  !  "  as  if  they  would  have 
said,  "  How  should  any  one  suppose  that  he  meant 
Zoug  ? "  and  yet,  to  my  ear,  there  was  scarcely  any 
difference  between  their  pronunciation  of  the  word 
and  mine. 

The  road,  for  at  least  a  league  before  reaching 
Zoug,    passes    through    orchards   of    apple-trees, 
beneath  which,  an  abundant  hay- crop  was  gathered 
into  heaps,  and  pleasantly  i)erfunied  the  air  ;  and 
about  twelve,  I  reached  the  hotel  de  Cerf.     More 
than  one  traveller  has  remarked  the  desolate  aspect 
of  the  town  of  Zoug,  and  has  infeiTod,  from  the  de- 
serted appearance  of  the  streets,  a  ^^ant  of  industry 
and  activity  in  the  inhabitants  ;  and  to  account  for 
this,  we  are  told  that  Zoug  is  a  catholic  canton. 
As  for  the  deserted  appearance  of  the  streets,  it  I 
must  be  recollected  that  there  is  no  trade  in  Zoug, 
and    that   the    inhabhants   are    all    agriculturists. 
Most  of  them  are  therefore  in  the  fields  ;  and  those 
who  are  not,  have  the  good  sense  to   keep  within 
doors  in  bad  weather,  which  it  happened  to  be  wIkmi 
1  visited  this  town,  and  which  it  may  very  probaldy 
have  been  when  other  travellei-s  made  the  obser- 
vation.    With  respect  to  the  industry  of  the  peoi)le 
of  Zoug  being  affected  by  their  religion,  I  hesitiite 
as  yet  to  give  any  opinion,  until  I  have  had  an  op- 
portunity of  contrasting  the  state  of  the  other  ca- 
tholic and  protestant  cantons.     I  shall  only  observe 
here,  that  I  saw  no  want  of  industry  in  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  soil  around  Zoug  ;  and  that,  in  catholic 
Normandy,  reproach   might  be  gleaned  for  some 
protestant  districts  in  England. 

I  like  the  situation  of  Zoug,  lying  beneath  the 
hill  so  prettily  variegated  with  forest  and  fruit 
trees,  and  the  lake  washing  the  houses.  The  banks 
of  the  lake  are  in  general  soft  ;  every  where  culti- 
vated, and  plentifully  wooded  ;  but  on  the  side  of 
Lucerne,  Mount  Rigi  looks  down  upon  it  ;  and 
Mount  Pilate,  although  at  some  distance  from  the 
lake,  seems  to  rise  from  the  water-edge.  Zoug  is 
the  highest  of  the  Swiss  lakes  ;  for  it  lies  no  less 
than  1300  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

The  churches  of  the  town  of  Zoug  are  the  objects 
most  deserving  the  notice  of  the  traveller.  The 
principal  church  Is  St.  Michael,  which  stands  upon 
an  eminence,  situated  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  tlie  town.  The  cemetery,  which  lies  around 
the  church,  was  covered  with  millions  of  pinks  and 
white  lilies  when  1  visited  it,  in  rather  odd  contrast 
with  the  multitude  of  bright  gilt  crosses,  one  of 
which  stands  at  the  head  of  every  grave.  At  the 
side  of  the  cemetery  is  a  Golgotha,  where  are  thou- 
sands of  skulls,  piled  upon  one  another,  each  with 
a  label,  bi>aring  the  name  of  the  owner.  What  a 
field  this  for  the  j)hrenologist  I  and  with  such  ad- 
vantages, what  a  blaze  of  light  would  le  thrown 


8 


EINSIEDELN. 


[('HAI'.  IV. 


I    Ik    ' 

I 


upon  the  science,  by  the  establishment  of  a  phreno- 
logical society  at  Zoug  !  The  interior  of  St.  Michael 
is  handsome  and  showy,  covered  with  gilding,  and 
containing  images  and  pictures  without  number, 
but  none  of  them  beyond  price.  In  the  church  of 
the  Capuchins,  however,  and  in  St.  (Jswald's,  there 
are  two  good  pictures,  one  of  them  said  to  be  by 
Annibal  Carnicci.  In  the  latter  of  these  churches 
the  treasury  is  displayed  to  the  curious  :  it  contains 
innumerable  images,  crosses,  salvers,  and  candle- 
sticks of  silver,  sufficiently  testifying  the  devotion 
of  th«;  worthy  catholics,  by  whom  these  were  be- 
queathed. 

In  the  appearance  of  the  inhabitants  of  Zoug,  I 
observed  nothing  very  different  from  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Zurichers,  excepting  that  the  women 
were  better  looking,  but  worse  dressed.  In  the 
town  of  Zoug,  meat  sells  about  3d.  per  lb.,  fish 
about  5(1.,  butter  about  7d.,  and  a  pair  of  fowls 
about  Is.  ftd.  In  the  pr()j)er  seasons,  woodcocks 
and  other  kinds  of  game  are  plentiful  ;  and  vege- 
tables and  fruit  are  at  all  times  remarkably  cheap. 

In  the  Canton  of  Zoug,  which  is  the  smallest  in 
tile  confederation,  there  are  scarcely  any  nuinnfac- 
tori«--.  The  cultivation  of  fruits,  from  which  cider 
an<l  a  s|»ecies  of  kirchwasser  are  made,  both  of 
which  are  exported  in  considerable  (piantities,  em- 
ploys a  numbi-r  of  the  inhabitants  ;  and  the  breed- 
ing of  cattle  is  also  pretty  I'xtensively  followed. 
Wine  does  not  succeed  well  in  this  canton.  The 
constitution  of  Zoug  is  purely  democratic — the 
peoj)leat  large  electingthe  landsg<>meinden,orcoun- 
cil,  which  consists  of  tifty-four  nHinbers.  There  is 
no  tax  of  any  kind  in  the  Canton  of  Zoug.  The 
whole  exi)enses  of  the  state,  amounting  to  about 
\(}{)/.  sterling,  are  defrayed  from  the  general  Swiss 
fund,  drawn  from  the  entry  of  foreign  merchandise, 
and  from  a  monopoly  in  salt,  whicli  is  farmed  by 
government,  and  which  brings  about  Hi)/,  a  year. 
The  councillors  in  this  canton  are  j)aid  for  their  ser- 
vices, at  the  rate  which  can  be  afforded  by  the  com- 
nume  that  sends  them.  The  sum  paid  by  the  town 
of  Zoug  to  its  rejjresentatives,  is  i'ouv  (oiils  d\>r  vixch 
per  anmnn  ;  ami  besides  this,  every  councillor  en- 
tering Zoug  to  attend  a  council,  which  tak<'S  place 
about  once  a  month,  receives  about  I)d.  Knglish. 
This  is  all  that  some  of  the  councilloi's  reeeivi',  for 
several  of  the  conununes  are  not  able  to  afford  any 
thing  to  their  n-presentatives. 

Tlie  respectable  inhabitants  of  the  canton  are  not 
in  love  with  democracy  ;  and  the  same  may  be  said 
of  most  of  the  other  demt)cratic  cantons.  Law  in 
Zoug  is  merely  ancient  usage  ;  and  as  this  re(|uires 
intellect  and  knowledge  to  apply  it,  it  is  scarcely  to 
be  supposed  that  the  repri'sentatives  of  so  ignorant 
a  body  as  the  majority  of  the  whole  inhabitants 
must  be,  every  one  of  whom  has  a  voice,  should  be 
capable  of  a{)plying  ancient  usage  with  any  proba- 
bility of  doing  justice.  Several  highly-respectable 
individuals  in  Zoug  have,  accordingly,  told  me,  that 
they  would  gladly  exchange  democi'acy  for  a  spe- 
cies of  government,  which,  though  less  free  in  name, 
is  better  calculated  to  ensure  the  rights  of  those  w  ho 
live  under  it. 

I  now  left  Zoug  for  Ilorgen,  a  little  town  charm- 
ingly situated  on  the  lak(^  of  Zurich,  lying  on  the 
road  from  Zurich  to  Einsiedeln,to  which  I  intended 
going  next  day.  I  reached  Horgen  at  nightfall, 
and  just  in  time  to  have  escaped  a  severe  thunder- 
storm, which  in  a  moment  changed  the  face  of  the 


lake,  shrouded  the  mountains,  and  lighted  up  the 
firmament. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EINSIEDKLN. 

Journey  through  the  Canton  of  Schwytz  to  Einsiedeln — A 
Rencontre — The  Abl)ey,  Churrh,  and  Village  of  Einsie- 
deln— Concourse  of  Pilfjrims — Dresses — Customs — Proces- 
sion— the  Fair — Particulars  respecting  the  Convent — The 
Miraculous  Image— The  Adorations  paid  to  it— Bull  of 
Pope  Leo  VIII. — The  Revenues  of  the  Abbey,  and  their 
various  sources — Credulity  of  the  People — Klfects  of  the 
Pilgrimage  upon  the  Agriculture  of  the  Catholic  Cantons 
of  Switzerland — Journey  from  Knsiedeln  to  (Jlarus — Hap- 
perschwyl  Rridge — Beggars,  and  Swiss  Independence — 
The  Mountains  of  Glarus. 

Thf-:  morning  beint;  ushered  in  with  rain,  I  did  not 
leave  Horgen  for  Einsiedeln  till  after  breakfast.  In 
tile  course  of  a  sixteen  miles'  walk  from  Horgen  to 
Einsiedeln,  one  cannot  complain  of  sameness  in  the 
scenery.  There  are,  first,  five  or  six  niiles  of  con- 
tiimed  garden  aiitl  orchard,  enlivened,  t'wvy  few 
lumdred  yards,  by  neat  houses  and  village  churches  ; 
then  the  ground  rises,  and  the  road  passes  through 
fine  fir  woods,  checi|iured  with  other  forest  trees  ; 
and  for  some  miles  before  ri'aehing  Einsiedeln,  the 
country  is  alt(tgether  j>astui'e  laiul,  with  patches 
of  trees  of  hardy  growth  hen*  and  there,  while 
naked  rocks,  the  crevices  filled  with  snow,  are  seen 
jutting  behind  the  nearer  elevations  that  bound 
the  prospect. 

A  trilfing  circumstance  occurred  on  the  road, 
from  which  the  traveller  in  Switzerland  may  glean 
a  little  advice.  A  trenu'iulous  st(jrm  having  over- 
taken me,  I  took  refuge  in  an  auberge  by  the  road- 
side ;  and  almost  at  the  same  moment,  a  traveller 
seated  in  a  caleche  with  one  horse  drove  up.  "  I 
have  reason  to  envy  you,  sir,"  said  1,  "travelling 
at  ease  in  y(Uir  caleche,  and  sheltered  from  the 
storm."  "  Md  foi,'^  replied  he,  "  you  have  little 
cause  to  envy  me.  I  engaged  a  caleche  with  one 
horse  in  j)lace  of  two,  by  way  of  saving  six  francs  a 
(lav,  and  I  have  been  oldiged  to  walk  almost  all  the 
way,  and  yet  i)ay  for  a  carriage."  The  burden  must 
be  very  light  indeed,  if  oiu^  expects,  with  a  single 
hoi-se,  to  perform  a  journey  among  the  Swiss  moun- 
tains. 

The  first  view  of  P^insiedeln  is  striking  ;  for  one 
scarcely  expects,  in  the  midst  of  a  desolate  plain, 
situated  almost  three  thousaiul  feet  al)ove  the  level 
of  the  Mediterranean,  to  see  the  magnificent  towers 
of  a  church,  fianked  by  a  range  of  building  that, 
both  in  splendour  and  extent,  would  do  honour  to 
a  ca])ital  city.  The  church  and  convent  of  Einsiedeln 
are  larger  than  the  town,  whicli  straggles  down  from 
the  gates  of  the  former  like  a  mere  api)endage  to 
them.  And  if  the  traveller  bo  struck  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  Einsiedeln  before  he  enters  it,  he  will 
be  tenfold  more  surprised  when  Iw  walks  up  the 
one  street  that  leads  to  the  abbey.  In  place  of  the 
deserted  as[)ect  generally  j)resented  by  a  remote 
country  town,  Einsiedeln  presents  the  ai)pearance 
of  a  great  fair,  and  tlu?  most  novel,  perhaps,  in  its 
general  features,  of  any  that  is  to  be  seen  in  Europe. 
I  found  the  street  and  the  s(iuare  in  front  of  the 
church  crowded  with  pilgrims  ;  and  they  being 
of  all  countries,  the  most  pictures(jue  effect  was 


CHAP.   IV. j 


EINSIEDELN. 


9 


produced  by  the  different  dresses  in  which  they 
appeared.  There  might  be  seen  the  costume  of 
almost  every  canton  in  Switzerland,  as  well  as  that 
of  nearly  every  one  of  the  kingdoms  bordering  upon 
it— Havaria,  Baden,  the  Tyrol,  Alsace,  Swabia, — 
besides  many  more  distant  countries.  The  head- 
dresses of  the  women,  in  particular,  offered  the 
greatest  and  most  singular  variety  ; — some  with 
the  ancient  bodkin,  shaped  like  a  dart,  passing 
throuuh  the  hair,  the  head  in  the  fonn  of  a  dia- 
mond, and  studded  with  glittering  st(mes  ;  others, 
with  a  coifiure  madeof  plaited  and  stiffened  lace,and 
placed  uj)on  the  head  upright,  like  a  cock's  comb, 
or  a  large  fan.  Some  miglit  be  seen  with  a  broad 
circular  piece  of  straw,  placed  flat  upon  the  head, 
with  flowers  tastefully  disposed  hi  the  centre  ;  and 
many  with  the  hair  merely  plaited,  an  infinity  of 
beads  and  other  ornaments  interwoven  in  it.  xVlmost 
all  the  old  women  carried  statts,  and  most  of  the 
young,  red  umbrellas.  It  needed  but  a  slight  glance 
at  the  BC(Mie  before  me,  to  undeceive  me  ui  one  re- 
spect. It  was  not  of  the  miserably  poor  only  that 
the  ])ilgrims  consisted  ;  there  were  many  of  the 
middling  classes,  nay,  even  some  of  the  upper  ranks  ; 
and  after  the  religious  services  of  the  day  were  con- 
cluded, 1  observed  not  a  few  leave  the  scene  of  hu- 
miliation in  their  own  carriages.  It  was  evident 
also,  from  the  number  of  |)urchases  made  by  the 
i>il':rims,  that  with  manv  of  them  monev  was  not 
scarce.  In  the  j>la<r  in  frt)nt  of  the  church,  booths 
are  erected  on  evei'y  side,  with  shops  full  of  a  gaudy 
display  of  trinkets,  njsaries,  books,  crucifixes,  })rints 
of  saints,  po|)es,  and  niartyi*s,  images  of  tlie  Virgin, 
and  other  einljlems  of  the  Roman  catholic  faith. 
Some  few  of  the  shops  provided  for  the  wants  of 
the  body,  as  well  as  for  the  longings  of  the  spirit ; 
for  they  exhibited  to  the  weary  pilgrim  an  array  of 
various  kinds  of  cakes,  cheeses,  dried  tongues,  and 
even  household  bread.  Nor  was  the  proverbial 
thirst  of  a  pilgrim  unreniembered — wine,  lemonade, 
and  pure  water,  ministered  to  his  necessity.  But 
I  must  do  the  pilgrims  the  justice  to  admit,  that  I 
saw  a  hundred  crucifixes  bought  for  one  morsel  of 
bread,  or  drop  of  wine.  Almost  every  one  carried 
a  small  wooden  box,  into  which  the  trinkets,  or 
sacred  remembrancers,  were  dejiosited. 

Having  satisfied  myself  as  to  the  general  aspect 
of  lOinsiedeln,  I  rej)aired  to  the  abbey,  which  con- 
sists of  what  are  called  the  convent  and  the  church. 
The  convent  is  of  the  Benedictine  order  ;  and  when 
I  visited  it,  there  were  fifty-four  resident  friars. 
The  whole  is  upon  a  scale  of  great  magnificence. 
The  eating-room  is  more  like  a  mUe  a  tiunnfer  for 
Louis  XIV.,  than  for  the  Benedicts  of  Einsiedeln. 
The  sleeping-rooms  of  the  brethren  are  comfort- 
able, and  simply  fitted  up,  with  two  chairs,  a  straw 
mattrass  on  a  b( dsti'ad,  and  the  incitements  to 
devotion  usually  found  in  those  jdaces  which  are 
dedicated  to  religion.  I  saw  no  provision  against 
the  rijfours  of  winter,  which  must  be  scarcelv  en- 
durable  without  some  defence,  in  a  spot  which  lies 
little  less  than  'MH)0  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
I  observed  upon  the  door  of  each  room  the  engrav- 
ing (tf  a  saint — no  doubt  the  favourite  saint  of  the 
inmate.  It  was  a  cold  day  when  I  visited  the  con- 
vent, although  in  the  month  of  May  ;  and  1  could 
not  help  thinking,  as  I  heard  the  wind  howling  along 
the  corridors,  that  if  I  were  to  choose  a  retreat  from 
the  vanities  of  the  world,  it  should  be  where  the 
severity  of  climate  made  no  part  of  the  penance.    In 


one  of  the  cloisters,  I  observed  an  engraving  of 
Oliver  Cromwell — a  sti-ange  enough  object  for  the 
devotion  of  a  monk. 

The  church,  whicli  occupies  the  centre  of  the 
convent,  I  have  no  intention  of  describing.  To  do 
this  in  detail  would  exhaust  my  powers,  and  the  pa- 
tience of  the  reader.  It  is,  however,  one  of  the 
most  gorgeous  churches  I  ever  entered — rich  in 
gilding,  and  painting,  and  marble,  and  decoration  of 
every  description  :  there  is  not  a  foot  of  either  walls 
or  roof  without  some  kind  of  adornment.  But  the 
great  attraction  of  the  church — that  which  has  made 
the  fortune  of  Einsiedeln,  by  drawing  the  devout  to 
it  from  almost  every  comer  of  Europe — is  the  holy 
chapel,  containing  the  miraculous  hnage  of  the 
Virgin.  The  chapel  is  of  black  and  gray  marble, 
and  stands  within  the  church  ;  and  in  a  niche  in 
this  chapel,  erected  for  the  purpose,  is  deposited 
the  sacred  image  ;  and  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  from 
the  earliest  dawn  till  deep  twilight,  hundreds  may 
at  all  times  be  seen  prostrated  before  the  iron  gate, 
through  which  the  devotee  may  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  object  of  his  pilgrimage. 

But  there  is  more  of  tlie  miraculous  in  the  liis- 
torv  of  the  abbev  of  Einsiedeln,  than  the  image 
which,  in  the  middle  ages,  is  believed  to  have 
worked  miracles.  The  church  is  declared  to  have 
been  consecrated  by  God  himself,  as  witness  the 
following  copy  of  the  bull  of  Pope  Leo  VIII.  : 

"  Nous,  Leon,  Eve(iue,  serviteur  des  serviteurs 
de  Dieu,  faisons  savoir  a  tons  les  fidcles  de  la  sainte 
e'glise  de  Dieu,  presens  et  a  Tavenir,  (jue  notre 
venerable  frere  I'EvtlMiue  de  Constance,  nomme' 
Conrad,  nous  a  intime  en  presence  de  notre  tres 
cher  fils  Otton,  Empereur,  d' Adelaide,  sa  chere 
e[)Ouse,  et  de  plusieurs  autres  prhices,  qu'e'tant  ap- 
pele'  en  un  lieu  dans  son  territoire,  nominee  Cellule 
de  Meiurad,  I'an  de  rincarnation  de  notre  Seigneur 
048,  il  y  e'tait  alle'  pour  y  consacrer  le  14  Septembre 
uiie  chapelle  a  I'lionneur  de  la  tres  sainte  et  tou- 
jours  Vierge  Marie  ;  mais  (jue  s'etant  Icve  selon 
sa  coutume  environ  a  minuit  pour  prier  Dieu,  il 
avait,  avec  quehpies  freres  religieux  de  ce  nieme 
lieu,  ouit  un  chant  tres  doux,  et  (|u"ayant  voulu  re- 
marcjuer  diligemment  ce  (^ue  c'e'tait,  il  avait  reconnu 
veritablemeiit,  que  les  anges  avaient  tenu  le  meme 
chant  et  orare  en  la  consecration  de  la  raeme  cha- 
pelle pour  la(iuelle  il  etait  venu,  que  les  Eveques 
ont  coutume  d'observer  en  la  dedicace  des  dglises, 
et  que  le  leiidemain  matin,  toutes  les  choses  neces- 
saires  a  Taction  ayant  e'te'  ai)prete'es,  et  lui  retard- 
ant  toujoui-s  et  diflerant  jusqu'environ  midi,  les 
gens  impatiens  d'attendi-e,  entrerent  dans  la  cha- 
pelle, et  le  prierent  de  commencer  I'office,  qu'il  avait 
jjromis  de  faire,  et  comrae  il  resistait,  et  exposait  la 
vision  f^u'll  avait  vue,  ils  le  reprirent  assez  aigre- 
ment,  jus(j[U*a  ce  qu'enfin  ils  entendirent,  par  trois 
fois,  une  voix  claire,  qui  disait :  '  Cesse,  nion  frere, 
elle  est  divinement  consacre'e  ;'  alors  tout  dpou- 
vante's,  connoissant  que  la  chose  e'tait  passe'e  comme 
il  Tavait  dit,  ils  y  donnerent  leur  approbation,  assu- 
rant  depuis  ce  temps-la  avec  toute  certitude,  que 
cette  chapelle  dtait  consacre'e  du  Ciel."  Who 
can  be  surprised,  that  the  credulous  and  ignorant 
should  need  little  incitement  to  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  Einsiedeln  \ 

1  thought  it  foi-tunate,  that  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  same  day  upon  which  I  arrived  at  Einsiedeln, 
a  procession  of  the  pilgrims  took  place.  Preceded 
bv  banners,  and  the  other  emblems  of  the  Romish 


t ' 


U 


10 


EINSIEDELN. 


{chap.  IV. 


church,  and  by  all  the  inmates  of  tlie  a])l)oy,  amonf; 
whom  appeared  two  friars  of  the  order  of  Capu- 
chins, with  hair-shirts  and  sandals,  were  seen  all 
the  pil;;rims  then  conjjjregated  at  Einsiedeln.  The 
men  walked  first  two  and  two,  the  women  followed  ; 
and,  when  I  say  that  I  counted  8220,  it  will  not  be 
considered  any  exatji,'eration  if  I  assert,  that  the 
line  of  procession,  if  drawn  out,  would  have  occu- 
pied nearly  a  mile.  There  was  somethinp:  certainly 
imposiiij;  in  the  spectacle  ;  thouj^h  to  many,  feef- 
inj;s  of  contempt,  perhaps  even  of  disnjust,  mi;jht 
have  been  engendered  by  it.  For  my  own  part, 
pitying,  as  I  do,  the  ignorance  and  credulity  that 
could  lead  to  a  spectacle  like  this,  I  find  in  it  no 
cause  of  mirth  or  disgust.  I  liavc  no  reason  to 
doubt,  that  the  devotion  wliich  apj)eared  in  the  de- 
portment of  by  far  the  greater  number  of  the  })il- 
grims,  was  unfeignedly  sincere  ;  and  althougli  1  am 
far  from  believing  that  penance  and  pilgrimage  are, 
in  themselves,  acts  of  devotion  pleashig  in  the  eye 
of  God,  yet  I  believe  that  the  Deity  cannot  look 
with  aversion  upon  any  homage  that  is  rendered  in 
sincerity.  After  the  procession  had  made  a  consi- 
derable circuit,  it  entered  the  church,  where  a  dis- 
course was  preached  by  one  of  the  Capuchins,  who 
seemed  to  possess  great  fluency  of  expression  ;  and, 
what  is  still  higher  praise,  a  power  of  persuasive- 
ness that  was  seen  in  the  sobs  and  tears  of  his 
auditory. 

The  number  of  pilgrims  who  resort  to  Einsiedeln 
is  not  upon  the  decrease.  In  1H17,  there  were 
114,000  ;  in  1821,  114,000  ;  in  1822,  i:t2,000  ;  in 
1824,  150,000  ;  in  1825,  1G2,0(»0  ;  in  1828,  17(J,000. 
What  do  the  reformation  societies  say  to  this  i 

Several  times  during  the  day  and  the  evening  I 
entered  the  church,  and  always  found  it  crowded, 
the  1mm  of  pi-ayer  rising  from  every  niche  where  the 
image  of  a  saint  reposed  ;  and  next  morning,  when 
I  looked  from  my  chamber-window  at  half-past 
three,  the  scjuare  was  already  filled  with  the  devout, 
hastening  to  their  early  orisons.  Several  of  them, 
passing  the  fountain  whicli  stands  before  the  abbey, 
and  which  has  fourteen  jets-d'eaux,  drank  of  every 
one  of  them  ;  because,  believing  that  Jesus  Chris't 
drank  at  one,  the  pilgrim,  not  knowing  which  of 
them  has  been  thus  sanctified,  drinks  of  them  all. 

1  was  hapi)y  to  learn  that  the  religieux  of  the 
abbey  possessed  the  good  opinion  of  tlie  peoj)lc  of 
Einsiedeln  and  its  neighbourhood,  and  that  they 
merited  it,  from  their  extensive  charities,  and  from 
the  other  acts  of  kindness  which  they  ])erform. 
There  is  scarcely  any  evil  without  some  attendant 
good,  scarcely  any  folly  that  benefits  nobody  ;  and 
when  I  saw  the  hundreds  that  beset  the  d()or  of  a 
little  chapel,  into  which  they  were  admitted  at  short 
intervals  one  by  one,  to  ptirchase  masses  for  the  re- 
pose of  the  dead,  it  was  pleasant  to  think,  that  the 
money  meant  for  the  dead  was  destined  for  the  use 
of  those  wlio  had  more  need  of  it.  The  revenues  of 
the  abbey  cannot  be  otherwise  than  enormous  ;  for, 
independently  of  the  sums  paid  for  masses,  besides 
many  other  contributions  never  forgotten  })y  the 
devout,  they  receive  a  large  accession  froin  the 
benedictions  bestowed  upon  rosaries,  crosses,  and 
images.  Thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  these 
are  bought  by  the  pilgrims,  and  are  earned  to  the 
jihhe,  who,  for  the  kiss  bestowed  upon  each, 
receives  one,  two,  or  more  francs,  according  to  the 
means  of  the  possessor.  There  is  another  thing  to 
be  considered  in  estimating  the  revenues  of  Einsci- 


deln  ;  many  of  the  poorer  [)ilgrims  are  the  l)earers 
of  the  ofi'erings  uf  othei-s.  Those  who  would  wil- 
lingly benefit  by  the  virtues  of  the  sacred  image  at 
Einsiedeln,  but  whose  temj)oi*al  concerns  interfere 
with  the  duties  of  a  pilgrimage,  seek  out  some  ])oor 
pilgrim  wliose  earthly  kingdom  is  less,  and  wliose 
I)iety  is  greater,  than  theirs  ;  and  to  him  the  duties 
of  a  re[)resentative  are  confided.  Two  or  three 
fiorins  are  generally  given  for  his  prayers,  and 
other  sums  for  the  ])urchase  of  masses  for  the  souls 
of  friends  ;  all  of  which,  let  us  charitably  hope,  find 
their  way  into  the  channel  intended  for  tlit  m.  In 
afterwards  travelling  through  another  jtart  of  Swit- 
zerland, I  heard  of  a  woman  resident  in  the  neigh- 


was    so 


bourhood,  whose  reputation  for  sanctity 
great,  that  she  had  obtained  the  lucrative  appoint- 
ment of  rej)resentative  aiipresde  la  Sainte  l^unjc  at 
Einsiedeln, for  all  the  wealthy  people  in  the  c^»inininCy 
and  that  she  made  four  iiil^rimajjes  everv  vear  to 
the  sacred  shrine  upon  their  account.  It  would  be 
better  for  the  catholic  cantons  of  Switzerland,  if 
this  representative  system  were  more  connnon  ;  for, 
when  we  learn  that  a  Imndred  and  fifty  or  sixty 
thousand  pereons  make  a  j)ilgrimage  to  Einsiedeln 
yearly,  two-thirds  of  whom  at  lea-st  are  understood 
to  be  from  the  catholic  cantons  of  Switzerland,  we 
find  an  additional  reason  whv  these  cantons  are  be- 
hind  the  })rotestant  cantons  in  cultivation — a  fact 
of  wliich  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt.  Few  pilgrims 
sj)end  less  time  than  a  week  at  Einsiedeln,  and  even 
from  the  neighbouring  cantons  another  week  is 
reijuired  for  the  journey  ;  and  although  many  have 
money  to  spare  ibr  the  expenses  of  a  j>ilgrimage, 
while  the  expenses  ofsomeof  the  poor  are  ])rovi(ied 
for,  l)y  far  the  greater  number  are  neither  so  rich  as 
to  render  the  expense  a  thing  of  no  im})ortancc,  nor 
so  })oor  as  to  make  their  journey  dejx-nd  upon  the 
])iety  of  others.  These,  almost  all  engaged  in  agri- 
culture, must  amount  to  (>0,()00  or  70,000  persons, 
the  expense  of  whose  journey,  })urchases,  masses 
and  largesses,  and  the  waste  of  whose  time,  nmst  all 
be  charged  against  the  cultivation  of  their  land. 
Nothing  can  be  more  absurd  than  to  suppose  that 
there  is  any  thing  in  the  catholic  religion  itself  dis- 
posing its  professoi*s  to  indolence.  The  catholic  is, 
no  doubt,  just  as  industrious  as  his  protcstant 
neighbour  ;  but  the  immber  of  holidays  which  liis 
religion  enjoins  or  countenances,  and  in  Switzerland 
this  pilgrimage  to  Einsiedeln,  neutralize  that  in- 
dustry, however  great  it  may  be.  The  difierence, 
therefore,  perceivable  in  Switzerland  between  the 
state  of  the  catholic  and  the  protcstant  cantons,  is 
not  chargeable  against  the  spirit  of  the  catholic  re- 
ligion, but  merely  against  the  injunctions  of  the 
church. 

I  left  Einsiedeln,  at  an  early  hour,  for  the  Canton 
of  (jlarus ;  and,  as  I  found  the  road  rapidly  descend- 
ing, felt  no  regret  at  leaving  the  sharj)  wind  then 
blowing  over  the  snow-hills  for  a  more  congenial 
climate.  After  a  walk  of  about  three  hours,  I 
reached  Lachen,  situated  charmingly  at  the  foot  of 
the  richly-variegated  hills  that  rise  above  the  upper 
lake  of  Zurich,  and  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
bridge  which  crosses  the  lake  to  Kap{)(i"schwyl. 
After  having  breakfasted,  1  hired  a  small  vehicle 
to  conduct  me  by  the  bridge  to  Rapperschwyl. 
The  bridge  and  the  town  are  both  worth  a  visit, 
especially  the  former,  which,  as  far  as  I  know,  is 
the  largest  })ridge  hi  Europe.  It  is  no  less  than 
4800  feet  long,  and  the  breadth  is  sufficient  to  allow 


CHAP.   V, 


GLARES. 


11 


a  carriage  to  ]»ass  along.    It  is  certainly  a  very  use-  | 
I'ul  and  j)raisevvorthy  work,  and  is  said  to  have  cost  ; 
the   town   of  Rappei-schwyl    upwards   of  300,000 
francs.     The  town  itself  is  pretty  ;  but,  in  Switzer- 
land, situation  is  every  thing  ;  and  many  an  attrac- 
tive little  Swiss  town,  were  it  transplanted  into  the  | 
fens  of  Lincoln,  would  lose  all  its  charm  by  the  j 
eliange.  j 

The  road,  on  leaving  Lachen  for  Glarus,  is  inter-  ; 
esting,  winding  among  the  picturescjue  hills  that  j 
extend  between  the  alps  of  Glarus  and  the  lake  of 
Zurich.  Here  1  found  tln'  houses  built  entirely  of 
wood  ;  the  roofs  tiled,  with  beams  laid  across,  and  | 
stones  of  immense  size  laid  upon  the  roof,  at  about 
a  foot  distant  fx'om  each  other,  as  a  securitv  acainst 
the  blasts  of  wind  that  sweep  with  great  violence 
through  the  valleys.  It  was  in  this  walk,  too,  that 
I  was  first  beset  w  ith  beggars,  in  the  shape  of  chil- 
dren, who  left  ofi"  their  j)lay  to  assume  the  whining 
of  ])rac'tised  mendicants,  and  to  request  half  a  bat- 
zen  for  a  nmltitude  of  in'avers  in  i-eversion.  I  could 
not  Init  feel  sur})rised  that  republican  independence 
could  stoop  to  this.  I  do  not  speak  of  the  children, 
but  of  their  pai'cnts,  Swiss  peasants,  who  were  often 
standing  by,  and  who  encouraged  their  children  to 
ask  the  alms  w  hich  they  did  not  stand  in  need  of. 

It  was  in  travelling  between  Basil  and  Zurich 
that  1  first  saw  in  the  distance  the  snowy  mountains 
in  Switzerland  ;  and  now  I  found  myself  almost  at 
their  feet.  The  day  was  misty — clouds  rolled 
ujion  the  mountain-sides — now  they  shrouded  one 
point,  and  now  thev  revealed  another — now  a  snowv 
peak  rose  above  the  dense  vapoui's,  and  now  a  sud- 
den gust  of  Avind  laid  bare  the  ilark  j)reci[)ice  and 
till'  belt  of  gloomy  firs  from  wliieh  it  rose.  It  was 
with  this  ])rospect  before  me,  that  I  entered  the 
valley  of  the  Canton  of  Glarus. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CANTOX  OF  GLARUS, 

The  Valley  of  Glarus — The  Town — Character  of  Swiss  Inns 
—  Ant'cdote — Singular  Laws  in  the  Canton — Law  respect- 
ing Inheritance — Laws  respecting  Education — Poor-Laws 
— Protestant  and  Catholic  Clergy — Salaries  of  Clergy  and 
Schoolmasters— Revenues  of  the  Canton — Taxes  and 
Ex{)enditurc — Extraordinary  Laws  respecting  Marriage — 
Prices  of  Provisions  in  Glarus — Journey  up  the  Linthall — 
Character  of  the  upper  part  of  Glarus — Details  respecting 
Schahziger  Cheese— Condition  of  the  Inhabitants  of  the 
Valley  of  the  Linth — Pantenbrugge — Scenery  at  the  Head 
of  Glarus— Return  to  Glarus — Excursion  to  Klonthall — 
and  Journey  to  Wesen. 

Claris  is  one  of  the  most  singular  of  the  Swiss 
cantons,  l)oth  from  its  geographical  })osition  and 
from  the  siiin;ularitv  of  some  uf  its  laws  and  usagres. 
It  consists  but  of  one  lonj;  narrow  valley,  into  which 
there  is  but  one  road,  and  of  two  small  lateral 
valleys,  to  neither  of  which  there  is  any  entrance, 
but  by  the  }»rincipal  valley.  At  the  entrance  to  the 
canton,  the  valley  is  not  above  a  mile  broad  ;  and, 
as  one  proceeds  onwai'd,  it  seems  as  if  the  journey 
Would  soon  be  tenninated  bv  the  rockv  and  almost 
perpendicular  mountains  that  stretch  across  ;  but 
the  valley  winds  round  them  ;  and,  after  a  most  in- 
teresting journey  of  about  four  hours,  I  reached  tlie 
town  of  Glarus — the  only  i)lace  in  the  canton  de- 
s(>rving  the  name  of  a  town.  Seeing  the  church- 
door  tt}»en,  I  stepped  within  the  porch  ;  but  there 


seemed  to  be  nothing  in  it  particularly  attractive  : 
if  I  had  known,  however,  that  here,  as  in  the  little 
village  of  Dieteken,  the  same  church  serves  for  the 
devotions  of  both  protestants  and  catholics,  it  would 
have  given  rise  to  feelings  far  more  pleasing  than 
any  that  could  have  been  awakened  by  the  contem- 
plation of  the  most  splendid  monuments.  The  pro- 
testants of  Glarus,  being  the  richer  and  the  more 
numerous,  offered,  some  time  ago,  to  purchase  from 
the  catholics  the  right  of  using  the  church,  thinking 
that  it  might  be  more  agreeable  to  the  catholics  to 
erect,  with  the  purchase-money,  a  cliapel  of  their 
own  ;  but  the  catholics  said  they  were  contented 
that  things  should  remain  as  they  were  ;  and  so 
they  have  ever  since. 

The  town  of  Glarus  is  remarkable  for  nothing 
but  its  situation  ;  unless  I  may  be  allowed  to  add, 
for  its  very  excellent  inn,  Z'^/<7/(rf 'Or;  but  indeed 
there  is  nothing  to  complain  of  in  any  of  the  Swiss 
inns.  Thev  are  excellent,  and  all  uncommonly 
clean — decidedly  cleaner  than  those  of  any  other  of 
the  European  countries,  not  even  excepting  Eng- 
land. In  afterwards  travelling  through  the  Canton 
of  St.  Gall,  I  breakfasted  at  a  country  inn,  where 
not  only  the  floor,  but  the  walls,  which  w  ere  also  of 


wood,  were  scoured  ;  and  where  the 


tables,  made 


of  the  walnut-tree,  were  so  bright  with  rubbing, 
that  I  mistook  the  lustre  upon  them  for  French 
polish.  I  have  also  almost  always  found  tlie  utmost 
variety,  and,  in  general,  good  cookery  in  the  Swiss 
bill  of  fare,  with  the  exception  of  Zurich  and  its 
neighbourliood,  where  certain  spices  are  used  in 
too  great  abundance.  At  the  inn  at  Glarus,  where 
one  might  scarcely  expect  the  handsomest  enter- 
tainment, my  dinner  consisted  of  soup,  fish,  and 
five  dishes  of  meat,  two  dishes  of  vegetables,  and 
seven  of  a  dessert.  It  has  often  occurred  to  me, 
when  dining  at  any  of  the  best-served  tables  in  the 
inns  of  the  Continent,  how  great  must  be  the  sur- 
prise of  a  foreigner,  when,  having  asked  for  dinner 
in  England  for  the  first  time,  a  beef-steak  perhaps, 
and  a  few  potatoes,  are  placed  upon  the  table.  A 
Swiss  gentleman  whom  1  met  at  Wesen  informed 
me,  that  the  first  evening  he  landed  at  Brighton, 
he  asked  for  supper  ;  and  a  huge  piece  of  cold  beef 
being  soon  after  placed  upon  the  table,  he  supposed 
that  the  company  at  supper  w  ould  consist  of  at  least 
twenty  pei-sons,  for  abroad  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  see  little  more  of  one  dish  served  up  than  sufficed 
for  the  company.  In  the  expectation  that  the  com- 
pany would  arrive,  he  waited  long  ;  and  at  length, 
being  told  that  the  beef  was  intended  for  no  one 
but  himself,  he  cut  one  thin  slice,  marvelling  much 
at  the  extraordinary  appetites  of  Englishmen,  and 
expecting  six  or  eight  as  ponderous  dishes  to  follow. 
The  sequel  needs  no  telling. 

1  liave  mentioned,  that  the  Canton  of  Glarus  is 
remarkable,  not  only  on  account  of  its  geogi*aphical 
position,  but  also  for  the  peculiar  laws  which  are  in 
force  within  it.  A  few  details  respecting  these  may 
not  be  unacceptable.  One  of  the  most  remarkable 
laws  in  that  canton  is,  that  only  a  son  or  a  daughter 
can  inherit  property.  If  a'man  w  ho  has  inherited 
his  property  from  his  father,  dies,  leaving  neither 
son  nor  daughter  behind  him,  his  property  reverts 
to  government,  and  cannot  even  be  devised  by  tes- 
tament to  any  other  more  distant  relative.  If  he 
has  purchased  his  property,  he  has  the  right  of  dis- 
posing of  it.  This  law,  by  w  hich  the  government 
becomes  the  holder  of  large  portions  of  land,  has 


12 


GL  Alius. 


[chap.  v. 


given  rise  to  another  usage,  of  which  no  one  can 
complain.  Government  lets  out  this  land  to  the 
poor,  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  batchen  or  2s.  Id  for 
thirty-six  feet  square.  A  very  considerable  portion 
of  land  Is  held  in  this  way,  and  is  crenerally  planted 
with  potatoes,  or  with  the  herb  used  in  the  manu- 
facture of  the  well-known  t^cluif'zu-.jer  cheese.  I 
heard  no  one  complain  of  the  law  respecting  the 
inheritance  of  property  ;  and  the  purpose  to  which 
the  property  of  government  is  applied  gives  uni- 
vej'sal  satisfaction. 

In  the  Canton  of  Glarus,  there  are  one  or  more 
schools  in  every  commune,  according  to  its  popula- 
tion     The  schoolmasters  are  paid  by  government,  , 
and  receive  each  about  35/.  per  aunum-a  hand-  j 
some  provision  in  a  country  where  every  article  ot 
sustenance  is  to  be  had  at  a  very  reasonable  rate  ; 
but  the  most  important  regulation  connected   witli 
these  schools  is,  that  the  law  does  not  h-ave  educa- 
tion  to   the  choice   of  indixiduals.       Parents   are 
obliged  to  send  their  children  to  school  ;  nor  can 
this  be  called  a   hard  law,  since  all  instruction  is 
given  gratis.       Reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic, 
are  the  branches  of  education  taught  in  these  schools. 
In  this  canton,  there  are  also  schools  in  each  com- 
mune every  Monday  for  religious  instructions— one 
for  protestaiits,  another  for  catholics  ;    and  there 
is  also  a  Sundav-school  in  every  commune,  meant 
for  the  instruction  of  those   whose   avoeations  ()ii 
other  davs  of  the  week  prevent  them  from  i.n.titing 
bv   the  dailv-schools.       In    tluse    Simday-srhools, 
all   the  ordinary  useful  branches  of  education  are 

'  Although  there  are  no  poor-laws  in  tlie  Canton  of 
(;iaru<  there  is  soniotliing  which  closely  reseiiil)les 
tli<-m.  '  Every  Sunday  tii.re  are  voluntary  sub- 
seriptious  for  the  pi)(»i-,  at  least  so  they  are  called  ; 
but  if  anv  one,  known  to  have  the  means  ot  giving, 
be  observed  not  to  give,  he  may  be  summoned 
before  the  council  ui»on  the  information  of  two  citi- 
zens, and  be  conii)elled  to  contribute.  _ 

lioth  the  protestant  and  catholic  clerjxy  are  paid 
by  .government.       The  first  protestant  minister  re- 
ceives HOO    fiorins  (al)out   (U'.),   whi^-h,   with    tees 
upon  marriages,  ,!vc.,  is   swelled   to  al.out  «0/.  :  he 
has  also  a  free  house,  well  furnished  ;  and  whatever 
articles  of  furniture  may  lu-.ppen  to  b(>  destroyed, 
injured,  or   worn  out,   they   are  rtnewed    by    the 
('overiimeiit.     It  may  perhaps  be  aski-d,  from  what 
sources  arise  the  funds  which  are  employed  m  pay- 
ing the    clergymen,   schoolmasters,    &c.,   ami    the 
ordinary  expeiuliture  of  government.     To  provide 
for  all  thfse,  tluiH"  are  two  taxes  ;  a  tax  upon  the 
head,  of  four  bat/en  (about  (id.),  levied  upon  every 
one  arrived  at  the  age  of  sixteen  ;  and  jtnother,  a 
property-tax  of  two  bat/.en  (:id.)  upon  every  1000 
florins.     The  expense  of  the  government  tonus  but 
a  small  charge  upon  the  revenue,  the  chiif  magis- 
trate having  only  20/.  a  year.      But  every  thin-  is 
upon  a  proportionate   scale   in  (Jlarus.     A  person 
possessing  i.roperty  to  the  amount  of  :iOOO/.  is  c(m- 
sidered  very  wealthy,  and  there  is  not  one  indivi<lual 
in  the  canton  worth  8000/. 

The  laws  peculiar  to  this  canton  respecting  mar- 
ria<re,  &c.  are  unusually  strict,and  somewhat  curious 

Whatever  may  be  the  age  of  pei-sons  desirous  ot 
marrvin-,  thev  cannot  acconi]>lisli  their  wish  with- 
out tfie  consent  of  their  respective  parents.  A  man 
of  fifty  must  still  remain  a  bachelor,  if  his  lather  ot 
seventy-five  should  so  determine.     The  absunlity 


niAP.  V.I 


GLARUS, 


13 


of  this  law   has   given   rise  to  a  laxity  of  morals, 
unknown   in  any  other  part  of  Switzerland  ;  and 
this,   again,   has    produced    anotlur,   and   a  very 
wholesome  law,  whicli  in  part   neutrali/<s  the  ab- 
surdity of  the  other.     If  it  should  so  happen  that  a 
young  woman  becomes  incrintt',  the  person  in  iault 
is  obliged  to   marry  her  ;  and  in  case  of  a  refusal, 
he  is  (feclared  incapable  of  being  elected  to  a  seat 
in   the  council  ;  his  evidence   is  inadmissibh-  in  a 
court  of  justice  ;  and,   in   short,  he  is  deprived  of 
civil  rights.     It  is   quite  consistent  with  all  this, 
that  if  ^the  marriage  takes  place,  which,  with  such 
t)enalties  in  case  of  non-complianc(>,  i«  J^l"it>^t  always 
the  case,  the  female  should  be  received  into  society, 
and  that  no  stain  should  be  supi)Osed  to  attach  to 
her.     All  laws  whose  tendency  is  to  di-fV>at,  and  not 
merely  to  re'j;ulate  the  laws  of  nature,  must   fail  in 
their  'object';  and,  accordingly,  other  laws  e<iually 
or  still  more  absurd,  are  re.iuired  to  regulate  the 

evils  that  arise. 

All  these  laws,  and  all  the  law  in  this  canton, 
stand  upon  ancient  usage  ;  and  every  new  judg- 
ment is  recorded,  as  well  as  the  facts  upon  which  it 

has  proceeded. 

When  I  visiteil  Glarus,  th.-  following  were  the 
prices  of  different  articK-s  :  W-v^  and  veal,  3d.  per 
lb  ;  mutton,  Ijd.  ;  chamois,  2d.  ;  fish,  (id.  ;  a 
heath-cock,  about  2s.  4d.  ;  butter,  4id.  ;  cheese, 
:Ud.  ;  bread,  four  batz.  (<Jd.)  for  5  lbs.  A  house 
\\\X\\  sev<'n  or  eight  moms,  stable  and  good  ganU-n, 
may  be  had  for  V-  <>i'  «/-  I'^'i"  amium.  A  common 
feniale  servant  receives  4/.  wages  ;  a  good  cook 
twice  as  much  ;  so  that,  in  Glarus,  a  house  and  a 
cook  are  at  ])ar.  A  labourer  receives  about  10^1. 
and  his  breakfast. 

Having  collected  all  the  information  I  could  re- 
si>ectini:7he  peculiar  customs  of  this  canton,  I  pre- 
pared for  a  j..uriiey  to  the  head  of  the  valley,  where 
the  canton  is  hemmed  in  by  the  mountains  which 
separate  it  from  the  Grisoiis.  It  was  a  cloudy 
morning  when  I  walked  out  of  (Ilarus,  taking  the 
ri'dit  bank  of  the  Llnth,  which  fiowed  beneath  in 
an  impetuous  but  very  limpitl  stream.  Heat,  that 
in  other  countries  dries  up  the  rivers,  in  Switzer- 
land swells  them— those  at  U  ast  which  rise  in  the 
hi«>ll  Aljis.  This  fac-t  the  traveller  without  a  guide 
should  bear  in  mhid  ;  because,  if  he  siq-poses,  from 
a  Ion-'  course  of  hot,  dry  weather,  that  he  will  find 
streams  fordable,  he  will  often  discover  his  error. 
This  observation  has  no  particular  reference  to  the 
rivi^r  Linth  ;  but,  as  it  occurred  to  me  at  present,  1 
thought  it  best  not  to  omit  it.        ,,.,., 

The  valley  of  the  Linth  1  found  fertile  in  beauty, 
and  full  of  poi)ulation.      It  is  environed,  indeed,  by 
inia-H's  of  grandeur  and   sublimity  ;  but  the  high 
nioimtains  being  veiled  in  the  mists  of  the  m(u-mug, 
nothiii"  could  at  first  be  seen  beyond  the  immediate 
boundaries,   which   were  simj-lv  i-icturesiiue.      1  he 
proxunitv  to  the  region  of  snow  was  seen,  however, 
in  th.'    .liminished    fertility   of  the   soil,   and    the 
scanty   assortnuut  of  garden   j-roductions.      I- roiu 
Glarus  to  the  little  hamlet  of  Lintbal,  three  leagues 
distant,  the  vallc^v  s.'ldom  assunu's  a  gn-ater  breadth 
than  two  miles.'    1    passed  throuirh  no  fewer  than 
six  villages  ;  and  the  sides  ..f  the  hills  were  thickly 
dotted  with  the  cZ/aA/.s-  of  the  cow  and  g<'at   herds, 
whose  fiocks  were  urazing  on  the  mountains.    1  did 
not  see  a   blade  of  eorn.     The    j-asturc-land  was 
only  diversified  bv  small  fields  of  thyme,  and  other 
o.l(>riferous  plants'  for  tiie  bees,  the  honey  of  Glarus 


being  much  esteemed  ;  by  patches  of  potatoes  near 
the  cottages ;  and  by  little  enclosures,  where  the 
iilaiit  used  in  the  manufacture  of  cheese  was  culti- 
vated. I  noticed  that,  among  the  little  appendages 
of  every  house,  one  small  building  was  api)ro|)riated 
for  the' reception  of  withered  leaves,  which  U)Y\\\ 
the  basis  of  the  manure  used  in  the  valley,  and 
which  are  also  used  exclusively  for  litter. 

At  Linthal,  the  last  village  in  the  canton,  is  one 
of  the   principal   manufactories  of  the   Hrhahzhycr 
cheese,  well  known  and  highly  esteemed  in  many 
i)arts  of  Euroi)e.     I  of  course  visited  it.     The  pea- 
sants, who  feed  their  cows  in  the  mountains,  bring 
down' the  curd  in  sacks,  each  containing  about  200 
11  IS.,  and  for  which  they   receive  thirty-six  francs 
French.     Th(>  herb  (kU')  which  gives  it  the  green 
c(.lour,  and  its  jKH-uliar  fiavonr,  having  been  pre- 
viously dried  and  crushed  to  powder,  about  G  lbs. 
of  it  is  put  into  the  mill,  along  with  200  ll>s  of  the 
curd  ;  and  after  being  turned   for  about  two  houi-s 
and  a   half,  the  mixture   is  ready  to   be  put  into 
shapes,  where  it  is  kept  until  it  dries  sutficiently  to 
be  readv  for  use.     When  sold  wholesale,  it  fetches 
about  :nd.  per  lb.     This  is  considered  a  very  lucra- 
tive trade  ;  and  the  richest  people  in  the  canton  are 
cheese  manufacturers.      It  is  a   common  belief  in 
England,  that  ►S-Z/'f/c/rt/.r  cheese  is  made  from  goats' 
milk  ;  but  this  is  (juite  a  mistake.      The  foundation 
of  this  cheese  is  in  no  respect  different  from  that  of 
the  English  cheeses  ;  its  i)eculiar  character  is  owing 
merely"to  its  conjunction  with  the  herb,  and  to  its 
being 'kept  till  it  is  fit  for  grating. 

Notwithstanding  the  existence  of  something  akin 
to  poor-laws,  I  saw  many  signs  of  poverty  among 
the  pei-sons  who  were  labouring  in  the  fields,  or  in 
the  little  gardens.  They  were  generally  \yitliout 
shoes  or  stockings,  and  w(>re  otherwise  but  ill  pro- 
tected a<4ainst  the  cold  blasts  of  the  mountains.  A 
Swiss  nrountaineer,  or  even  a  goat-herd,  may  be 
very  picturescpie  in  a  landscai)e,  (»r  may  even  be 
introduced  into  fiction  with  effect  ;  but  it  is  a  sorry 
occu])ation  to  sit  from  morning  until  night,  with  a 
scanty  fiock  of  goats,  and  without  shoes  or  stock- 
ings, among  the  rocks  of  the  (Jlarus  mountains, 
where,  even  in  summer,  bitter  blasts  occasionally 
sweep  the  hill-sides,  and  where  the  warmest  sun  is 
(•fteii  obscured  by  showei-s  of  snow  and  sleet,  that 
in  the  lower  valleys  descend  like  summer  dews. 

There  are  many  gradations  in  riches  among  the 
peasants  of  Glarus' ;  from  one  goat  or  one;  cow,  up  to 
fifty  or  sixty.  The  i)ossessor  of  twenty  or  twenty- 
five  cows,  is  considered  to  be  in  very  easy  circum- 
stances, and  yet  the  value  of  his  whole  property 
does  not  amount,  in  (Jlarus.  to  more  than  IGO/. ;  for 
the  usual  price  of  a  cow  is  about  7/.  or  Hi.  at  most. 
But  with  six  cows  a  i)easant  is  not  in  poor  circum- 
stances ;  and  even  with  a  single  cow  and  a  little 
potato  land,  he  is  not  numbered  among  the  poor. 
Six  or  seven  goats  are  also  looked  upon  as  a  tolera- 
ble independence  ;  and  a  man  owmng  three  goats 
Ls  not  a  pauper. 

Linthal  is  only  a  few  straggling  houses,  but  there 
is  a  prospect  of'this  remote  place  rising  into  some 
importance  ;  for,  at  the  foot  of  the  Stackelberg,  a 
mineral  water  has  lately  been  discovered,  which 
has  already  ol)tained  some  celebrity  ;  and  a  hand- 
some hotel  and  baths  are  now  erecting  for  the  use 
of  strangers.     This  would  be  a  charming  retreat 


during  the  month  of  June  for  the  disciples  of  Isaak 
Walton.  I  never  saw  a  stream  more  like  a  good 
trouting  stream,  than  the  Linth  ;  it  is  neither  too 
deep  nor  too  shallow  ;  there  is  little  or  no  wood 
upon  its  banks  ;  it  is  neither  too  lazy  nor  too  rapid  ; 
and  every  now  and  then  it  forms  those  delightful 
eddies,  which  so  pleasantly  animate  the  hopes  of  the 
angler.  And  let  not  the  thorough  angler  despise 
me' utterly  if  I  add,  that  I  never  tasted  more  deli- 
cious trout  than  those  which  had  been  drawn  out  of 
the  Linth. 

Beyond  Linthal  there  is  no  village  up  the  valley 
to  Panttnbru(}ije,  which  is  the  ne  plus  ultra.     I  left 
Linthal  for  this  bridge  after  breakfast,  and  soon 
entered  upon  the  narrow  defile,  which  is  all  that 
remains  of  the  Canton  of  Glarus.     Every  step  the 
scenery  became  more  and  more  striking — the  rocks 
more  jirecipitous — the  cascades,  great  and  small, 
more  frequent — the  stream  of  the  Linth  more  im- 
petuous— and  the  mountains  behind  more  gigantic  ; 
the  glaciers  of  the  Ruzen  P'lz  rising  above  them  all. 
The  road,  or  rather  path,  continued  gradually  to 
ascend,  till  I  found  it  i)Owdered  with  the  snow  that 
had  fallen  during  the  past  night ;  and,  after  a  most 
interesting  walk  of  about  two  leagues,  I  reached  the 
Pantenbrugge.     I  was  fully  repaid  for  my  labour. 
One  arch  Ts  thrown  over  the  Linth,  from  rock  to 
rock,  and  at  the  depth  of  IOC  feet  below,  the  river 
bursts   from   its   mountain-gorge  to  seek  a  wider 
channel.     The  scenery  around  is  of  the  wildest  de- 
scription.     Terrific  precipices  rise  on   every  side, 
and   the   resthig-places   of  the  eternal   snows  are 

beyond. 

'p'rom  Pantenbrugge  a  mountain-path  leads  into 
tlie  Grisons  ;  but  when  I  visited  this  part  of  Swit- 
zerland, the  season  was  not  far  enough  advanced  to 
render  this  path  practicable ;  and  besides,  1  pur- 
posed reaching  the  Grisons  by  a  more  circuitous 
route.  It  rained  torrents  as  I  returned  to  Gla- 
rus, where  I  spent  the  night ;  and  next  morning  I 
left  it  to  visit  Klonthal,  a  small  Alpine  valley  of  the 
canton.  Mist  and  sunshine  maintained  a  charming 
conflict  all  the  way  ;  they  were  conquerors  alter- 
nately. One  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  sunshine 
were  vanquished  beyond  recovery  ;  the  next  a 
bright  gleam  would  flash  athwart  the  mists,  and 
drive  them  from  their  strong  holds  ;  and  then,  when 
light  appeared  to  be  triumphant,  dark  vapours 
again  rolled  u])ward  from  nobody  knows  where,  and 
triumphed  in  their  turn.  It  is  a  very  interesting 
walk  to  the  Klonthal,  chiefly  because  the  result  is 
unlooked  for  ;  for  who  could  expect,  after  following 
the  course  of  an  impetuous  stream  upward,  sud- 
denly to  enter  upon  a  little  paradise  ?  A  desolate 
Alpine  valley  one  might  look  for,  or  a  dark  moun- 
tain tarn  ;  but  not  a  smiling  vale,  suiTOunding  a  fine 
gentle  lake,  imaging,  in  its  tranquil  breast,  green 
meadows  and  quiet  cottages  ;  and  yet  this  sweet 
valley  is  close  to  the  regions  of  snow  ;  for  on  all 
sides  rise  the  summits  of  Glarnisch  and  its  cora- 
peei-s.  The  same  evening,  1  left  Glarus  for 
Wesen. 

I  have  nothing  more  to  add  respecting  Glarus, 
excepting  that  the  constitution  of  the  canton  is  de- 
mocratic ;  and  that,  although  there  are  in  the  canton 
seven  times  as  many  protestants  as  catholics,  the 
council  is  composed  of  ec[ual  numbers  of  both. 


m 


11: 
1 

I* 

m 

II 


I 


14 


ST.  GALL. 


[chap.  VI. 


CHAPTER  VL 

CAMON   OF  ST.  GALL THE  ORISONS. 

The  Wallensee— Journey  to  St.  Gall— Pilgrims— St,  Gall  and 
its  Manufactures— Peculiar  Laws  of  St.  Gall— Cheapness 
of  Property— Voyage  from  Wesen  to  Wallenstadt— Cha- 
racter of  the  Lake,  and  Accident  by  the  way— Arrival  at 
Chur— Chur  and  its  neighbourhood —The  Bishopric— State 
of  the  Inhabitants;  Merchants.  Lawyers,  Physicians- 
Journey  from  Chur  to  the  Ensadine,  across  Mount  Albula 
—An  Anecdote— Details  respecting  Grison  Liberty,  and 
the  National  Character  of  the  Grisons— Revenues  and  Ex- 
penditure of  the  Canton. 

The  little  town  of  Wesen  lies  at  the  head  of  the 
Wallenstadt  Lake  ;  and  from  the  windows  of  the 
inn  (rEpet-),  there  is  a  truly  eharniing  prospeet. 
The  Wallenstadt  is  not  one  of  the  very  celebrated 
anions  the  Swiss  lakes  ;  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  de- 
serving of  a  very  respectable  place.  It  has  not, 
indeed,  the  sublin'uty  of  Lri,  nor  the  majesty  of  Ge- 
neva, nor  the  beauty  of  Zurich  ;  but  it  has  charms 
of  its  own.  There'  is  a  quiet  seclusion  about  its 
shores,  that  partly  atones  for  the  absence  (.f  glaciers, 
and  which,  to  many,  may  be  more  pleasing  than  the 
prospect  of  gardens  and  Duiisons  <Je  campdhjne.  I 
shall  return  to  Wesen  and  its  lake,  after  making  an 
excursion  to  St.  (iall. 

This  little  journey  occupied  me  three  days,  one 
of  which  I  spent  at  St.  Gall.  Between  Wesen  and 
St.  (uiU  1  found  all  the  inns  full  of  pilgrims  ;  and, 
by-the-byc,  these  pilgrimages  sufficiently  account  for 
the  extraordinary  numbtr  of  inns  to  be  found  in 
most  parts  of  Swit/A-rlaiuL  At  the  inn  where  I 
breakfasted,  upwards  of  sixty  arrived  and  departed 
during  the  hour  that  1  remained.  Some  few  looked 
as  if  they  could  have  very  well  afforded  a  dtjiunc 
a  IdfourcJu'tte,  or,  at  all  events,  a  comfortable  cup 
of  coffee,  for  the  morning  was  cold  and  wet  ;  but 
they  all  breakfasted  alike  upon  a  moi-sel  of  coai-se 
bread  (which  most  of  them  produced  from  a  wallet), 
and  half  a  bottle  of  sour  wine.  I  presume  a  certain 
moderation  in  eating  is  considered  indispensable 
towards  the  success  of  the  pilgrimage. 

The  country  between  Wesen  and  St.  Gall  I  did 
not  find  very  interesting  ;  its  character  is  scarcely 
Swiss  ;  and,  excepting  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lich- 
tensteg,  a  pretty,  clean  town,  there  is  nothing  very 
striking  anywhere.     Nor  did  I  find  nuich  to  cajjti- 
vate  me  at  St.  Gall,  though,  to  the  manufacturer, 
this  town  will  be  the  most  interesting  in  Switzer- 
land ;  for  it  is  there  that  the  most  extensive  manu- 
factories of  muslin  are  carried  on.     I   heard  great 
complaints  of  the  state  of  trade  ; — the  Italians  had 
not  bought  as  usual.     Several   establishments  had 
ceased  working,  and  many  hundreds  were  out  of 
employment ;  so  that  tra<le  may  go  amiss  even  in 
countries  where  there  is  no  national  debt,  and  where 
there  are  ammal  parliaments  and  universal  suffrage. 
But  St.  Gall  is  distinguished  for  more  than  its  mus- 
lins ;  it  is  the  place  where,  on  tilt,  the  only  manu- 
script of  Cicero's  works,  de  Lniihus  and  di'  Fi.nihu:<, 
was  found;  and  where,  also,  the  Nibelungenlied  is 
preserved  among  the  manuscripts,  in  which  the 
libraries  of  this  town  are  rich. 

The  origin  of  St.  Gall  is  the  same  as  that  which 
still  ensures  the  prosperity  of  Einsiedeln — supersti- 


tion. St.  Gall  has  since  raised  its  prosperity  upon 
a  nobler  basis,  but,  as  it  would  ap{)ear,  one  less  en- 
during ;  f<»r  while,  in  St.  Gall,  the  results  of  industry 
and  ingenuity  have  proved  uncertain,  in  Einsiedeln 
the  fruits  of  credulity  and  ignorance  have  been  un- 
failing and  abundant.  The  hdiabitants  of  St.  Gall 
had  better  restore  the  abbey  of  Benedictines,  and 
niise  a  splendid  tomb  above  the  aslies  of  their 
patron  saint. 

The  Canton  of  St.  Gall  resembles,  in  some  of  its 
laws,  the  Canton  of  Glarus,  particularly  in  that  re- 
specting the  consent  of  parents  to  tlu'  marriage  of 
their  cliildren ;  but,  in  St.  Gall,  there  is  a  pleasant 
way  of  getting  over  the  difficulty  :  the  case  is  laid 
before  the  council,  which  delibenites  upon  the  refu- 
sal of  consent ;  and  if  the  councillors  consider  it  to 
be  "  frivolous  and  vexatious,"  they  advise  the  |)a- 
rents  to  let  the  young  people  have  their  own  way  ; 
and  so  the  affair  is  adjusted.  In  St.  Gall,  this 
occurs  xery  fre(|uently.  The  council  (for  the  pre- 
sent year  at  least)  do  not  happen  to  be  of  the  school 
of  Alalthus;  and  both  living  and  house-rent  being 
reasonable  in  this  canton, "  the  ]>rudential  pnncii)le  ' 
operates  but  feebly.  The  price  of  houses  is  indeed 
incredibly  low,  i  specially  country-houses ;  one  was 
pointed  <mt  to  me,  charmingly  situated,  about  three 
miles  from  the  town,  wliidi  had  lately  been  sold  for 
little  more  than  1000/.  It  contained  twenty-two 
vooms— had  every  kind  of  outbuilding,  besides 
eleven  acres  of  land. 

Having  returned  to  Wesen,  I  engaged  a  boat  to 
carry  me  down  the  lake  to  Wallen.stadt.     I    left 
Wesen  at  five  in  the  afternoon,  allowing  four  hours 
for  the  passage  of  tlu-  lake.     I   had  engaged  the 
smallest  boat   1   could  find,  and  only  one  rower  ; 
because,  having  some  knowledge  of  the  oar  myself, 
I  thus  ensured  a  i)leasure  and  a  profit  at  the  .same 
time.     For  an  hour  or  two,  all  went  wi'll,  ami  we 
made  good   progress;   but   when  we  had  accom- 
l)lislied  about  half  our  voyage,  my  oar  snapped  in 
two,  and  we  were  thus  left  in  rather  an  awkward 
predicament  ;  because,  with  only  one  oar,  it  was 
more  i>robable  that  1  .should  breakfast,  than  sui>  at 
Wallenstadt.     My  labour  being  no  longer  needed, 
I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  enjoy  the  prospect  around 
me.     1  was  nearly  opposite  to  the  village  of  Quin- 
ten,  the  situation  of  which  is  in  the  highest  degree 
pictures(iue  ;  for  the  rocks  in  its  neighbourhood  dip 
perpendicularly  into  the  water  ;  and  above  them,  at 
a  height  of  at  least  1200  feet,  might  be  seen  nume- 
rous herds  of  cattle  and  goats,  browsing  upon  a 
beautifully  green  herbage,  spotted  with  the  clui/<'(t! 
of  the  sheplierds  ;  while  various  cascades,  although 
not  great  enough  to  produce  much  effect  ui)on  the 
landscape,  yet  sweetly  liarmonized  with  the  other 
gentle  sounds  of  even-tide.     My  companion  tugged 
hard   with  his  one  oar,  and  I  occasionally  relieved 
him.      It   fell  dark,  however,  when  we  yet  wanted 
a  li-ague  of  Wallenstadt  ;  but  there  was  notliing  to 
regret,  as  I  watched  the  shadows  gradually  crc-ep 
over  till'  hills,  till  deep  night  covered  the  landscape, 
and  the  dark  still  sui-face  of  the  lake  was  gemmed 
with  the  thousand  stai-s  of  heaven. 

It  was  about  midnight  when  wi'  reached  Wallen- 
stadt, where  I  foniui  myself  engaged  in  a  warm 
dispute  with  the  boatmati  respecting  the  broken  oar, 
which  he  insisted  I  should  i)ay  for  ;  and  although 
1  well  knew  that  the  oar  had  borne  about  it  the 
infirn\ity  that  had  come  to  so  untoward  a  crisis, 
yet,  iis  the  crisis  had  arrived,  and  tenninated  faUilly, 


(ilAP.  VI. 1 


THE  GRISONS. 


15      - 


while  the  oar  was  under  my  care,  I  consented  to 
pav  the  half  of  what  was  demanded. 

Whatever  may  be  the  merits  of  the  Wallenstadt 
lake,  in  point  of 'natural  beauty,  it  will  yield  to  no 
other  in  point  of  utility  ;  for  it  is  by  this  lake  that 
all  the  commerce  between  Zurich  and  Italy  is  car- 
y\^,^\  0,1 — a  transit  that  would  otherwise  be  extremely 
circuitous.  The  Wallensee  is  famous  for  its  excel- 
kMit  fish  ;  and  as  some  wonderful  tale  is  generally 
current  about  every  lake,  I  must  not  omit  to  say, 
that  it  never  freezes. 

My  anxiety  to  get  into  the  country  of  the  Grisons 
increasing  as  I  approached  it,  I  only  remained  at 
Wallenstadt  to  breakfast,  and  for  once  deviated 
from  mv  pedestrian  habits,  by  closing  with  the  offer 
of  a  volturier  to  take  me  to  Chur,  the  Grison  me- 
tropolis, in  five  houre.  The  construction  of  the 
voiture  was  such,  that,  even  if  the  weather  had 
been  favourable,  I  should  have  been  punished  for 
niy  efiemiuacy  by  the  limited  prospect  ;  but  it  was 
a  con.solation  to' see  the  country  enveloped  in  so 
dense  a  mist,  that  nothing  was  lost  by  my  manner 
of  travelling.  At  Mayenfield,  1  again  found  the 
Rhine,  which  I  had  loft' at  Basil  ;  and  the  fog  allow- 
ing me  to  see  dimly  the  opposite  bank,  I  could  dis- 
cover that,  although  not  the  majestic  river  which 
sweeps  the  territory  of  Baden,  the  Rhine  is,  even  at 
Mavenfield,  a  fine, 'large,  and  beautiful  stream. 

Al)out  a  league  Ix-fore  reaching  Chur,  the  mist 
cleared  away,  and  a  heavy  rain  succeeded.  The 
lower  country,  and  half  way  up  the  mountains,  were 
now  visible  ;'  and  I  therefore  foi-sook  the  voiture, 
ami  walked  to  Chur,  which  I  soon  discovered  lying 
in  a  deep  hollow  among  the  mountains,  with  seve- 
ral valleys  dfvergingfntm  it,  each  of  them  traversed 
bv  a  river;  and  in  about  half  an  hour  I  was  re- 
ceived at  the  (IiiIhTiIi'  of  Daniel  Denz,  with  that 
amenity  for  which  iim-keepers,  all  over  the  world, 
are  distinguished. 

Chur  is  a  very  small  place,  to  be  the  metropolis 
of  so  large  a  district  as  the  country  of  the  Grisons. 
Less  than  three  hours  suffice  for  seeing  all  that  is 
worthy  of  notice  in  it.  If  you  walk  ten  minutes  in 
a  straight  line  in  any  direction,  you  will  leave  the 
town  behind  you.  Almost  every  house  in  Chur 
has  its  garden,*  and  every  garden  its  clump  of  vines, 
from  which  they  make  a  very  weak  but  pleasant 
wine.  In  accordance  with  the  Grison  character, 
of  which  I  shall  speak  more  fully  by -and-by,  there 
is  not  an  inch  of  ground  in  any  garden,  or  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Chur,  that  is  not  made  subser- 
vient to  utility ;  and  this  necessarily  produces  an 
appearance  of'  greater  fertility  than  might  be  ex- 
j)ected  from  the  climate,  and  the  elevated  position 
of  the  country. 

The  catholic  church  at  Chur,  and  the  residence, 
or  palace,  as  it  is  called,  of  the  bishop,  occupy  the 
most  elevated  part  of  the  town  ;  l»ut  even  from  the 
highest  pinnacle  of  his  church,  this  ecclesiastic  can- 
not see  the  bounds  of  his  diocese.  It  is  the  great- 
est in  Switzerland — extending  not  only  over  the 
greater  part  of  the  country  of  the  Gnsons,  and  of 
the  Canton  of  St.  Gall,  but  even  embracing  in  its 
paternal  arms,  ])arts  of  Suabia,  the  Tyrol,  and  the 
northern  parts  of  Italy  ;  and  it  was  but  recently  that 
the  head  of  the  chui'c'h  of  R<mie,  finding  it  advisable 
to  provide  for  some  of  its  deserving  sons,  took  off 
three  slices  from  the  benefice  of  Chur — namely,  the 
Cantons  of  Uri,  Schwytz,  and  Underwalden,  which, 
till  then,  had  been  comprised  within  the  limits  of 


this  bishopric.  It  is  somewhat  curious  that  so  much 
power  should  be  possessed  by  the  catholic  bishop 
of  a  i>rotestant  canton — for  such  the  country  of  the 
Grisons  is  always  considered — two-thirds,  at  least, 
of  the  inhabitants  professing  the  reformed  religion. 
In  walking  through  the  streets  of  the  little  town 
of  Chur,  one  is  surprised  to  find  so  much  bustle  and 
animation  as  are  every  where  visible,  so  different 
from  the  silence  and  repose  and  inertness  that  dis- 
tinguish most  small  provincial  towns.     But  this  is 
easily  accounted  for,  when  we  recollect  that  the 
manufactures  of  St.  Gall,  Glarus,  and  Zurich,  are 
sent  to  Italy  through  this  town,  and  by  the  Splu- 
gen  ;  and  it  is  here  that  the  transit  of  merchandise 
is  undertaken.      No  fewer  than  100,000  quintals 
pass  yearly  ;  and  several  persons  engaged  in  the 
transport  of  this  merchandise  have  realised  consi- 
derable fortunes,  and  are  indeed  considered  to  be 
the  wealthiest  persons  in  the  canton.    This  trade  is 
supposed  to  occupy  at  least  one-third  of  the  inha- 
bitants, as  inn-keepei-s,  waggoners,  porters,  horse- 
])roprietors,  and  the  other  subordinate  trades,  such 
as   blacksmiths,   wheelwrights,   roj)emakers,   &c.  : 
the  rest  of  the  inhabitants  are  shopkeepers,  small 
land-owners,   and  professional  men — the   last  the 
poorest  ;    for  law  in  this  neighbourhood  is  nmeh 
superseded  by  arbitration  ;  and  the  fees  of  the  me- 
dical gentlemen  are  so  low,  that  nothing  but  an  epi- 
demic can  afford  the  least  hope  of  a  competency  : 
their  usual  fee,  from  respectable  people,  is  one  franc 
per  visit.    Living,  however,  is  not  expensive  :  meat 
costs  about  5d. ;  butter  8d. ;  and  wine,  vegetables, 
and  fruit,  at  least  a  third  dearer  than  at  Zurich. 

Chur  lies  on  the  outskirts  of  the  Grisons  ;  and 
a  residence  there  can  give  the  traveller  little  in- 
formation as  to  the  country,  or  the  people  who 
inhabit  it :  it  is  the  remoter  and  central  valleys  he 
must  visit.  These  are,  the  Upper  and  Lower  En- 
gadine,  the  Albula,  and  the  valley  of  the  Upper 
Rhine ;  and  accordingly,  after  resting  one  day  at 
Chur,  I  left  it  to  visit  the  Engadine.  There  is  no 
road  from  Chur  to  the  Engadine,  excepting  very 
liigh  and  difficult  mountain-passes,  practicable  only 
for  a  pedestrian ;  so  tliat,  had  I  been  a  Russian 
prince,  I  must  have  been  contented  to  travel  as  I 
did  on  foot. 

The  road  from  Chur  conducted  me  through  a 
finely  wooded  and  hilly  country,  to  the  little  town 
of  Lenz,  where  I  ai-rived  about  mid-day,  just  in 
time  to  partake  an  indifferent  dinner  with  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  forge  situated  three  or  four  leagues 
farther  on.  There,  a  little  incident  happened 
worthy  of  relating.  Several  peasa^its  of  the  lower 
order  were  regaling  themselves  in  another  room  ; 
and  the  news  having  circulated  among  them,  that 
a  stranger,  who  had  come  through  France,  was  then 
in  the  house,  I  was  interrupted,  in  the  midst  of  my 
repast,  by  the  entrance  of  an  old  sturdy  peasant, 
who  exi)ressed  his  extraordinary  good  fortune  in 
having  met  me;  because,  as  I  had  come  from 
France,  I  could  probably  give  him  some  intelli- 
gence respecting  his  son  at  Toulouse.  This  reminds 
me  of  a  fact,  that  to  my  certain  knowledge  occurred 
in  Scotland,  and  upon 'which  the  reader  may  impli- 
citly rely.  A  gentleman  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Banff',  travelling  to  the  metropolis  in  his  own  car- 
riage, ottered  the  spare  corner  to  a  worthy  corpora- 
tion-man of  that  burgh,  who  happened  to  have  some 
business  in  the  south  ;  and,  early  one  morning,  the 
travel lei>s  reached  Edinl)urgh,  entering  by  the  west 


16 


THK  ORISONS. 


I  (MAP.  VII. 


CHAP.  VII.] 


THE  Gill  SUNS. 


1' 


1% 


h 


end  of  Princes'  street.  It  so  liapjKMied  that  a  cat, 
returning'  from  a  nocturnal  ramble,  was  walkuif; 
leisurely  alonj,'  the  pavement  ;  and  the  untravelled 
inhabitant  of  the  northern  burgh,  to  whom  every 
du'^  and  cat  within  his  own  town  were  famihar, 
stniek  with  the  beauty  of  this  early  wanderer,  awoke 
his  companion  from  a  sound  sleep  with  tins  mter- 
rogatory,  "  What  a  bonny  catty  !  fa's  catty's  that  ?" 
The  individual  with  whom  I  dined  ottered  me  a 
seat  in  his  cart  (for  the  roads  in  this  part  do  not 
admit  of  vehicles  with  springs)  as  far  as  his  road 
and  mine  lay  together  ;  and  I  accepted  the  oiler, 
for  the  sake  of  benefiting  by  his  conversation,  for 
he  seemed  both  intelligent  and  connnunicative.  The 
information  I  received  in  this  and  other  (piarters, 
during  my  residence  among  the  (irisons,  respecting 
the  political  constitution  of  the  country,  1  shall  re- 
cord in  this  place  ;  for  between  Lenz  and  liergun, 
where  1  passed  the  night,  nothing  occurred  to  swell 
my  personal  narrative. 

I  have  never  travelled  in  any  country  where  the 
peo{»le  talk  so  much  about  lil>erty,  as  in  tlie  country 
of  tl  e  (irisons— above  all,  in  the  Kngadine.  "  This," 
said  a  peasant  to  me  at  a  little   village   in   the   OIm/- 
KiupriVme,  where    1    shall  by-and-by  conduct   the 
reader,  "  this  is  the  only  republic  in  the  world,  and 
we  are  the  onlv  free  ])eople  !"  and  1  have  no  doubt 
he  spoke  as  he  believed.  ''  Touch  the  very  smallest 
of  our  rights,"  said  another  in  the  village  of  Pont, 
"  and  revolt  would  instantly  follow."      If  the  rights 
vaunted  by  these  ]>eopl('  did  really  exist,  tluir  de- 
termination to  preserve  them  might  be  easily  ac- 
counted for.     The   Kngadine  is  shut  out  from  the 
rest  of  the  world  by  high  and  almost  impassable 
mountains.     The  defile  of  the  Fhi^tenimntz,  on  the 
side  of  the   Tvrol,  might  be  defended  by  a  handful 
of  resolute  men  ;  and  if  a  single  rock   were  blown 
up  in  the  i)ass  from  Chur  by  Mount  Albula,  the 
only  vestige  of  a  road  would  be  swej^t  away  ;  and 
the  onlv  entrance  to  the  country  would  then  be  by 
the  tremendous  chasm  below,  and  up  a  cataract  of 
two  or  three  hundred  feet.  But  the  liberty  so  nmch 
spoken  of  by  the  (Irisons,  and  of  wliich  they  are  so 
proud,  has  no  existence.     When  we  say  that   the 
country  of  the   CJrisons  is  a  republic,  that  no  dis- 
thiction  of  rank  is  ostensildy  recognised,  and  that 
every  individual   has  a  voice  in  the  election  of  r(>- 
jtresentatives,  we  enumerate  all   its  ])retensions  to 
the  enjoyment  of  perfect  i)olitical  liberty  ;  but  much 
more  than  this  is  wanted,  before  a  country  can  be 
said  even  to  approach  such  a  state  of  political  liberty 
as  is  comi)atible  with  the  existence  of  any  organised 
government  ;  and  in  all  biyond  what  1  have  emnne- 
rated,  the  (J  risen  republic  is  deficient.  That  first  and 
greatest  safeguard  of  the  rights  of  a  free  people,  the 
liberty  of  the  press,  is  unknown.     Nothing  is  pub- 
lished that  is  not  previously  read   by  the  public 
authorities,  and  approved  ;  and  so  far  off  are  the 
Grisons  from  trial   by  jury,  that  the  courts  of  law 
hear   and  determine  with  closed  doors.      So  far, 
indeed,  is  this  i)rincii)le  carried,  that  the  council, 
or  representative  body  of  the  canton,  holds  its  de- 
liberations  in   secret.      There   are    some    things, 
indeed,  of  a  public  nature,  with  which  the  Grisons 
have  much  reason  to  be  pleased,  though  these  by 
no  means  result  from  their  form  of  government,  but 
from  the  smallness  of  the  .stati — 1  allude,  particu- 
larly, to  the  absence  of  taxation.     There  is  no  im- 
position or  tax  of  any  kind.     The  expense  of  the 
government,  &c.  is  defrayed  by  the  dues  charged 


upon  the  transit  of  merchandise  through  the  can- 
ton ;  so  that  the  (irisons  thcn^selves  pay  nothmg 
for  the  maintenance  of  tluir  state.  This  is  doubt- 
less very  agreeable  ;  but  those  who  cannot  congra- 
tulate tfnniselves  u])on  such  a  state  of  things,  have 
fortunately  an  ecpiivalent. 

Ihit  the  (irisons  are   not  only  proud  of  bemg  a 
republic,  but  of  being   in   themselves  a  federative 
republic  ;  for  the  country  is  divided  into  no  fewer 
than  thirty  jurisdicti<.ns*  each,  in  many  important 
respects,  fndependent  not  only  of  the  others,  but 
even  of  the  supreme  council.      In   each   of  these 
thirty   jurisdictions,  there   is  a   power  of  life  and 
death  ill  criminal  cases,  and  this  ])ower  is  sovereign 
and  without  appeal.     The  common  law  is  ditterent 
in  each  jurisdiction.     Every  one  ha.s  its  own  pecu- 
liar laws  and   its  own    usages  ;  and  by  these,  the 
(luestions  arising  within  their  boundaries  must  be 
determined.     From   these,  indeed,  there  is  a  court 
of  api)eal  at  Chur,  the  judges  of  which  must  neces- 
sarily be  presumed  to   have  a  sufticient  knowledge 
(tf  the  laws  peculiar  to  every  one  of  the  thirty  juris- 
dictions.     It  is  almost  needless  to  say,  that  all  this 
works  ill,  and   that   this  federative  republic  is  not 
only  deficient  in  the  very  essentials  of  liberty,  l)ut 
is  also  wanting  in  some  of  those  advantages  that  are 
to  be  found  in  states  where  there  are  no  pretensions 
to  it.     It  is  but  right  to  say,  that  1  met  with  one  or 
two  individuals,  and  but  one  or  two,  who  had  the 
courage  or  the  candour  to  admit  that  the  Grison 
government  was  not  perfect  ;  and  that  it  would  be 
better  to  live   under  more  assured  laws,  even  if  a 
king  were  the  fi)untain  of  justice.     1  was  informed, 
that   the  insecurity  of  the   law,  and  the  impertect 
I  administration  of  justice  within   the   jurisdictions, 
had  led  many  to  resort  to  arbitration  ;  but  from  tins 
also  there  is  an  api)eal  to  Ghur  ;  so  tliat  the  greatest 
advantage  of  arbitration  dois  not  exist. 

Before  resuming  my  narrative,  let  me  add,  that 
the    revenues   of  the    Grisons   amount   to    loO,()(M) 
francs  ((JOOO/.),  and  that  the  whole  expense  of  the 
government,  salaries  of  ]>ublic  otfici-rs,  i)ay  ol  militia, 
maintenance  of  public  buildings,  roads  and  bridges, 
and  allowance  to  the  councillors,  who  receive  six 
francs  per  dav   during    their   sittings,   amount    to 
about  two-thirds  of  this  smn.  The  suri^lns  lias  been 
employed,  for  some   yeai-s    past,   in    i.ayiiig    <»tf  a 
smairpiil^l'^'  "^''^'^  '  ^"'^   ''^''■"  ^  travelled   through 
the  country,  1  found  every  one  alive  to  the  imi)ort- 
ant  (luestion,   what  government  meant  to  do  with 
the  surplus  revenue  ('ilMK^/.),  at  the  redempti.m  of 
the  debt— a  period  to  which  the  Grison  politicians 
looked  forward  with  impatience  and  anxiety,  as  one 
well  calculated  to  try  the  fidelity  of  their  represen- 
tatives.  I  trust  the  reader  will  excuse  these  minute 
details,  respecting  a  peoi)le  whose  pu])lic  debt  is  on 
the  eve  of  redemption,  by  the  annual  surplus  re- 
venue of  2()0()/. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

COUNTRY  OF  THK  GRISONS. 

Bergun-Scene  in  a  Village  Inn-Traits  of  Tharactcr- 
(irison  Enjoyments-The  Passage  of  Mount  Albula,— 
Valley  of  Albula,  Ascent,  and  Scene  of  extraordinary  Sub- 
limity—Descent towards  the  Enpadine-Channing  Pros- 
pej-t—Visit  to  a  Mountain  Dairy,  and  Details— Arrival  in 
the  Ober  Engadine. 
From  the  little  town  of  Lenz,  where  I  had  dined, 
the  road  gradually  ascended,  and,  about  two  leagues 


from  Bergun,  which  I  had  fixed  upon  as  my  night's 
quartei-s,  I  w;is  left  to  pursue  my  journey  on  fo(jt. 
It  was  almost  quite  dark  before  I  reached  Bergun, 
and  with  some  difficulty  I  discovered  the  auberge, 
which  was  filled  with  the  villagers  discussing  their 
evening  allowance  of  wine,  and  congratulating  them- 
selves upon  the  excellence  of  their  pi'ivileges. 
Among  these  there  was  one  portly  old  gentleman, 
whom  I  at  fii-st  mistook  for  the  aubergiste,  and  w  ho 
welcomed  me  in  tolerable  English  ;  but  who  after- 
wards informed  me,  that  he  was  one  of  the  many 
sons  of  these  valleys  who  leave  their  paternal  homes 
in  early  youth  in  (juest  of  fortune.  This  old  gen- 
tleman had  found  it.  He  had  travelled,  during 
twenty  years,  in  tlie  capacity  of  a  valet,  through  all 
the  countries  of  Euroj)e  ;  and  having  scraped  to- 
gether the  savings  of  his  services,  he  had  at  last 
opened  a  confectioner's  shop  in  Bayonne,  where, 
in  ten  years  more,  he  acquired  sufficient  means  to 
enable  him  to  return  to  his  native  valley,  there  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  liis  days.  Even  there,  how- 
ever, it  was  not  inactivity  that  ho  sought.  The 
(irisoiLs  are  never  inactive,  nor  ever  regardless  of 
their  pecuniary  interests.  He  had  oj)ened  a  sliop 
at  Bergun,  and  reuiined  a  share  in  that  at  Bayonne, 
and  .seemed  to  be  one  of  the  most  influential  j)er- 
sons  in  his  native  village.  It  is  not  at  all  unusual 
to  find  persons  in  the  remote  villages  of  the  Grisons 
proprietors  of  shops  in  more  than  one  distant  city. 

I  found  myself  fortunate  in  meeting  this  person, 
because  I  was  now  arrived  where  the  Rotnan  dialect 
is  only  spoken  ;  and  although  the  auberge  at  Bergun 
could  furnish  but  little  to  tempt  tlie  epicure,  the 
culinai'y  skill  of  the  ri-dermit  valet  supplied  a  hun- 
dred deficiencies.  He  said  he  knew  the  English 
were  accustomed  to  live  well  at  home,  and  begged 
I  would  pemiit  him  to  j)repare  supper,  to  which  I 
need  scarcely  sav  I  consented  ;  and  the  result  was, 
an  omelet  and  some  fried  trout,  both  quite  good 
enough  to  have  provoked  an  appetite  that  needed  a 
provocative. 

'J'he  scene  in  this  inn  afforded  a  fair  specimen  of 
Grison  enjoyment.  Fourteen  villagers  were  seated 
at  a  long  table,  each  with  his  cap  on,  which  each 
no  doubt  fancied  the  caj)  of  liberty.  A  small  wooden 
])late,  with  some  bread  and  cheese,  and  a  small 
bottle  of  wine,  stood  before  each.  The  convei'sation 
was  energetic  and  grave  ;  its  theme  was  politics — 
the  politics,  not  of  the  world — not  of  Europe — not 
even  of  Switzerland — but  of  their  own  canton.  One, 
seemingly  the  most  resj)ectal)le  of  the  group,  per- 
ceiving that  I  listened  to  the  convei-sation,  and 
suspecting  that  1  was  unacquainted  with  the  lan- 
guage in  which  it  was  can'ied  on,  commanded 
silence,  and  addressing  me  in  French,  told  me,  that 
I  had  liere  a  specimen  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
Grisons  spent  their  evenings.  "  When  the  labour 
of  the  day  is  ended,"  said  he,  "  we  assemble  here — 
we  order  our  chopin  of  wine,  and  discourse  upon 
the  privileges  we  enjoy.  You  have  no  liberty  in 
England  to  comjiare  with  ours  ;"  and  yet,  the  man 
who  was  the  eulogist  of  libei'ty,  was  himself  the 
village  tyrant  : — so  the  person  who  spoke  English 
informed  me.  Greater  boldness,  and  a  some>vhat 
stronger  intellect,  j)erha])S,  had  raised  him  above 
liis  fellow-villagers,  and  destroyed,  as  it  must  ever 
<io,  that  phantom  e(juality,  which  is  incompatible 
with  the  nature  of  man. 

I  received  a  piece  of  information  from  this  person 
ut  Bergun,  which  may  be  worth  mentioning.      7'jro 


Indirlduah  in  this  remote  (Triaon  village  hare  money 
in  the  British  fa nrls ;  one  1000/.,  another  somewhat 
less.  This  fact  might  furnish  a  commentary  for 
some  of  our  parliamentary  economists. 

From  Bergun  to  the  valley  of  the  Ober  Enga- 
dine, the  only  passage  is  across  Mount  Albula. 
Several  of  the  interior  passes  in  Switzerland  are 
higher,  and  more  difficult  than  anv  of  those  better 
known  passes  which  lead  into  Italy  :  the  pass  of 
Mount  Albula  is  one  of  these.  A  series  of  geome- 
trical observations  was  made  at  Chur  about  a  year 
ago,  by  which,  the  elevation  of  the  mountains,  vil- 
lages and  roads,  throughout  the  country  of  the 
Grisons,  was  ascertained  ;  and  fi-om  the  inspection 
of  these  results,  I  found  that  the  pass  of  Mount 
Albula  attains  the  height  of  7^48  feet  ;  exceeding, 
by  exactly  one  hundred  feet,  the  highest  point  of 
the  pass  of  Mount  St.  Bernard.  The  other  cele- 
brated passes  into  Italy  are  considerably  lower  ; 
the  hospice  of  St.  Gothard  is  situated  (i.'iOO  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea  ;  the  passage  of  the 
Simplon  is  (jl74  feet  ;  and  that  of  the  Splugen  (an 
interior  |)ass)  is  somewhat  higher  than  St.  Gothard. 
But  before  I  enter  u})on  my  morning's  journey 
acro.ss  Mount  Albula,  let  me  not  forget  to  mention, 
that  having  ])romised  to  breakfast  with  my  new 
Grison  friend,  I  found  him  \vaiting  my  arrival  on 
the  steps  of  his  door,  before  six  o'clock.  The  break- 
fast was  rather  an  extraordinary  one  ;  for,  w  ith  the 
exception  of  fish  and  eggs,  it  consisted  entirely  of 
pastry.  He  had  infomied  me  the  night  before,  that 
he  intended  giving  me  a  s})ecimen  of  the  articles  by 
which  he  had  made  his  fortune  at  Bayonne  ;  and  I 
suspect,  from  the  variety  of  the  repast,  he  must 
have  occupied  the  whole  night  in  its  preparation. 
But  I  repaid  him  for  his  labour,  for  I  peiTuitted 
him  to  fill  my  pockets  with  the  specimens  of  his 
art  ;  and,  remarking,  as  I  rose  to  take  leave,  some 
hesitation  in  his- manner,  I  recollected  what  I  had 
heard  of  Grison  hospitality,  and  pressed  ten  batzeu 
\x\^o\\  his  acceptance. 

At  seven  o'clock  I  left  Bergun,  and  immediately 
began  to  ascend.  From  Bergun  to  the  fii-st  interior 
valley,  there  is  a  road  practicable  for  small  carts  ; 
for  there  some  hamlets  are  scattered,  and  there, 
too,  lies  an  Alpine  village.  This  road  mounts  by 
the  side  of  a  torrent,  skirting  some  little  fields  of 
scanty  j)roduce,  and  soon  entei-s  a  narrow  gorge, 
which  afiords  room  onlv  for  the  torrent  and  the 
narrow  road  that  is  excavated  out  of  the  tremen- 
dous rock  that  tow  ers  above  it.  There  is  here  the 
cheapest  road-maker  in  the  world.  The  mountain 
is  the  road-maker,  and  never  relaxes  in  its  labours  : 
it  is  of  a  crumbling  nature,  and  bv  incessant  con- 
tributions,  it  constantly  fills  up  the  cavities  which 
are  formed  l)y  the  rains.  When  the  road  had 
wound  round  this  rock,  1  found  myself  entering  a 
tolerably  extensive  Alpine  valley,  on  all  sides  sur- 
rounded by  the  rocky  peaks  and  snowy  summits  of 
the  Albula.  Here,  too,  as  at  Bergun — here,  too, 
as  in  the  more  fruitful  valleys — man  had  found  a 
home,  and  felt  that  life  was  sweet.  There  was  his 
habitation— there  the  flocks,  his  riches  ;  and  if 
there  was  no  village  inn  where  the  Grisons  might 
assemble  to  congratulate  each  other  upon  their  ]>ri- 
vileges,  there  was  the  little  bridge  that  spanned  the 
torrent,  or  the  fir-tree  that  lay  by  the  way-side. 

Tliis  valley  is  about  a  league  in  length  ;  and, 
after  having  travei-sed  it,  the  path — for  it  is  no 
longer  a  road,  ascends  a  narrow  defile  among  the 

c 


-t, 


l%- 


LI4 


If*'' 


18 


THE  GRISONS. 


[(HAP.  vii. 


bald  rocks  that  lie  around  the  little  lake  of  Wisseu- 
stein    1  found  the  ascent  laborious  ;  but  the  scenery 
around  amply  con.i)ensated  the   labour,  for  it  uas 
of   the   most  Varied   and  striking;  charact(-r.      line 
(rirdles  of  dark  tir  spanned  the  waists  ot  the  rocks, 
whose  .n-av  and  rutj-ed  heads  rose   in  vast  amplu- 
theatre!     'Oi'low  the   firs,   and   amon-   the    lower 
rocks,  lav  the  freshest  verdure,   watered  by  innu- 
merable 'rills  that  were  seen  higher  up  m  white 
threads  of  foam  anioiifr  the  rocks.     Here  and  there 
was  a  chalet-here  and  there  a  little  tlock  ;  but 
these  became  rarer.    The  path  surmounted  the  tir  ; 
and,  at  a  sudden  turn,  I  found  myself  on  the  borders 
of  the  little  lake,  and  beside  the  chalet,  where  the 
traveller  mav  find  mountain-fare.     This  lake  lies 
extremely  liiih,  and  ].ossesses  the  character  of  every 
lal;e  foim'd  in  such  elevations— a  character,  in  some- 
thiiiLT,  perhaps,  sli-htly  varyin-,  but  whose  genera 
features  must  necessarily  he  alike.     A  few  stunted 
firs  were  scattered  about  the  lower  en«l,  where  the 
water  was  siiallow  ;  but  on  all  the  otht>r  sides,  it 
lay  still,  and  dark,  and  treeless,  beneath  the  fri^'ht- 
fiil  precipices  that  t<)wered  ahove. 

The  ascent  from  the  lake  is  extremely  rapid  :  it 
remains   in  sight  more  than  an   hour,  and   is  then 
shut  out  by  a  ledge  of  the  higher  rocks  that  are 
connected  with  the  summits  of  the  mountain.    And 
now,  a  scene  opened  before  me,  to  whose  sublimity, 
I  fear,  I  shall  be  able  to  render  but  iin])erfect  jus- 
tice.    When   I   si)eak  of  this  scene,  I  do  so  with  a 
perfect  recollection  of  other  scenes  that  I  have  be- 
held in  other  parts  of  the  Alps,  in  tlie    Pyrenees, 
in  the  Canuithiaii  mountains,  and  in  Norway  ;  and 
I  feel  that  I  mav  do  perfect  justice  to  all  of  these, 
and  yet  assert  the  sui.eriority  of  this  part  of  Mount 
Albilla,  in  all  that  constitutes  that  kind  of  sublimity 
which  arises  from  the  presence  of  desolation.     The 
dehle  I  hail  now  entered  was  from  one  to  two  miles 
broad,  and  thn-e  or  four  in  length  ;  it  was  environed 
by  the  highest  summits  of  the  mountain.     These 
rose  almost  peri)endicularly  from  the  defile,  in  some 
places  showing  precipices  of  two  or  three;  thousand 
feet  ;  in  other  places,  presenting  a  frt)nt  of  towers 
and  pinnacles,  and  displaying  enormous  gaps,  where 
nothing   but    the   torrent   had    entered,   and    vast 
caves,  where  the  eagle  only  had  ever  rested.   Above 
all,  the  highest  peaks,  powdered  with  snow,  but  too 
ragged  and  pointe<l  to  allow  it  a  resting-place,  jutted 
intTthe  sky,  leaving  to  the  spectator  bi-low  a  hori- 
zon as  limited  as  the  defile.     Hut  all  that   I   have 
yet  spoken  of,  though  of  itself  sufficient  to  form  a 
picture  of  great  power,  falls  infinitely  short  of  what 
yet  remains  to  be  described.     Within  the  whole  of 
this  bounded  horizon,  not  one  blade  of  verdure  was 
to  be   seen — not  one  of  those  mountain  plants — 
those  alpine  flowers,  that  often  bloom  on  the  borders 
of  eternal  winter,  and  that,  springing  in  the  chasms 
of  the  baldest  rocks,  lend,  at  times,  the  charm  of 
gentleness  and  beauty  to  the  most  savage  scene. 
But  here,  desolation  had  reared  his  throni;,  and 
ruin  lay  around  it.     The  whole  extent  of  the  defile 
was  on*-  mass  of  enormous  stones  that  lay  piled  upon 
each  other  ;  it  was  as  if  two  mountains  of  rock  had 
here  waged  war,  and  been  shivered  in  the  conflict. 
Do  not  suppose,  in  figuring  these  scenes  to  your- 
self, that  rocks  and  stones  lie  scattered  over  the 
extent  of  this  dehle.     This  would  be  but  a  very  im- 
perfect conception  of  what  it  is.     In  many  places, 
the  stones  are  piled  upon  each  other  to  the  height 
of  some  hundred  feet  ;  and  to  what  depth  they  may 


lie  even  on  the  track  bv  wliich  you  pass,  no  one  can 
t(>li.  This,  however,  1  know,  in  ascending  higher 
than  this  defile,  the  river  is  seen  to  enter  it  in 
several  concentrated  streams  ;  and  below  the  de- 
file, it  is  again  seen  to  enter  the  lake  1  have  men- 
tioned ;  and,  in  passing  through  the  defile,  at  some 
deep  openings  and  gaps,  you  may  hear  the  distant 
rush  of  waters  far  below,  indicating,  hy  the  famt- 
ness  of  the  sound,  the  great  depth  at  which  they 
find  a  channel. 

I  have  never  been  more  strongly  im])resftea  by 

anv  scene  than  by  this.    It  realized,  more  than  any 

scene  1  have  ever  beheld,  the  conception  of  chaos 

"  treeh'ss,  herbl(>ss,  lifeless."      Not  even  the  fowl  of 

the  desert  could  here  have  found  one  fruit  of  the 

wildern(>ss,  nor  one  gushing  stream  whereat  to  slake 

his  thirst.     This  curse  of  utter  sterility  I   myself 

experienced.    The  breakfast  1  had  ma<le  at  Hergun 

was  not  well  calculated  for  a  journey  in  a  hot  dry 

day  across  the  mountains  ;  and  in  this  defile,  where 

not  a  breath  of  air  could  enter,  and  where  the  sun 

shone  down  with  great  i>ovser,  a  well  of  the  desei-t 

would  have  been  welcome.     1   found,  however,  a 

shelter  from  the  sun's  rays  ;  and  it  is  only  amid 

scenes  like  these,  that  we  are  able  to  underetand 

1  the  force  of  the  exi)ression,  "  the  shadow  of  a  great 

rock  in  a  wearv  land." 
i       When    1   had  traversed  this  defile  by  a  gradual 
ascent,  I  entered  upon  the  third  and  last  division 
of  the']>ass.     Ht«re  I  found  the  stnam,  which  111  a 
succession  of  rapids  and  cataracts  c(»mes  from  the 
highest  interior  vallev,  when-  the  snow  is  accumu- 
lated to  a  great  depth.     The  ascent  here  is  ex- 
trtmielv  rapid  ;  and  the  scenery,  although   it  has 
lost  that  character  of  utter  desolation   which  pre- 
sides lower  down,  vet  retains  much  grandiur,  min- 
gled with  a  few  of  those  graces  that  are  found  in 
Alpine  scenery.     Here  and  there  1  found  a  scanty 
iierbage,  and  ninunu>rable  beautiful  mosses.     The 
ranunculus  and  the  mountain-anemone  bloomed  at 
my  feet  ;  and  the  rocks,  ashamed  of  their  naked- 
ness, were  covered  with  the  crimson  blossoms  of 
the  rhododendron.  , 

About  an  hour  and  a  lialf  after  leaving  the  dehle, 
the  highest  part  of  the  pass  is  attained.     Here  one 
is  still  in  a  vallev,  though  its  si.Us  do  not  rise  more 
than  a  thousand" feet  abi.ve  it.      1  foun<l  a  gm>d  deal 
of  snow,  and  occasionally  some  difficulty  in  passing 
it  •  but  after  an  hour's  walk  I  began  to  descend, 
and  a  scene  soon  opened  below,  very  diH'eivnt  from 
that  which    1   have   attempted    to    describe       I  he 
southern    interior   vallos   of   Mount    All>ula    are 
among  the  most  esteemed  in  all  Switzerland  for  the 
i,asture  of  cattle,  which  are  brought  there  even  from 
some  of  the  remoter  cantons.   In  the  country  of  the 
Grisons,  every  village  has  its  mountain,  or  its  part 
of  a  mountain,  to  which  the  inhabitants  have  free 
access  for  the  grazing  of  their  cattle  ;  and  when 
herds  arrive  from  places  beyimd  its  liberty,  they  are 
permitted  to  graze,  upon  payment  of  a  certain  small 
portion  of  the  i.roduc.' of  the  dairy,  to  the  village 
enjoy in<'  the  libertv  of  the  mountain. 

"It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  look  down  the  south- 
ern side  of  Mount  Albula  ;  the  most  charming  ver- 
dure covered  the  slopes  and  the  valleys,  and  the 
flocks  of  a  hundred  hills  seemed  there  to  be  congre- 
gated The  distant,  and  not  unmusical  chime  of 
their  thousand  ])ells,  mingled  with  the  faint  lowing 
came  sweetly  up  the  mountain  ;  and  the  beauty  and 
interest  of  the  scene  was  greatly  increased  by  the 


CHAP.  VII.] 


THE  GRISONS. 


19 


recollection  of  the  lifeless  and  desolate  wilderness 
that  I  had  newly  quitted.  Scenes  of  grandeur  and 
sublimity  are  indeed  glorious  ;  and  by  them  we  are 
called  from  the  littlenesses  of  life,  to  a  contempla- 
tion of  the  majesty  of  that  which  is  more  enduring. 
Unutterable,  indeed,  is  the  charm  that  holds  us  in 
the  depth  of  the  silent  valley,  and  among  the  dark 
and  mighty  mountains  ;  but  still  there  is,  in  pictures 
of  life  and  hajipiness,  in  scenes  of  a  more  tranquil 
and  gentle  kind,  a  language  that  speaks  more  uni- 
versally to  the  human  heart  ;  and  this  I  found  in 
the  contrast  between  the  desolate  grandeur  of  the 
defile,  and  the  green  and  life-like  aspect  of  the 
mountain-slopes. 

Less  than  an  hour  brought  me  among  the  cattle, 
and  anotiier  hour  led  me  to  their  habitations.     For 
the  double  purpose  of  quenching  my  thirst,  and  of 
seeing  the  interior  of  these  mountain-dairies,  I  left 
the  tract  to  visit  one  of  them.     One  or  two  larjre 
and  fierce-looking  dogs  oj)posed  my  entrance  ;  but 
a  shepherd,  who  had  doubtless  his  own  interest  in 
I   view,  smoothed  the  way,  and  conducted  me   into 
'   the  interior.     In  the  outer  ])art  of  the  chalet,  there 
was  rt)oin  for  ujjwards  of  three  hundred  cattle  ;  and 
the  inner  part  consisted  of  two  rooms,  one  where 
tln'  milk  is  kept,  and  the  other  where  the  cheese  is 
made.     There  is,  besides,  a  kind  of  loft,  where  the 
men  enij)loyed  in  the  dairy  sleep.     For  every  fifty 
cows,  there  is  generally  one  man.     They  are  each 
allowed  about  sixteen  florins  per  month,  which,  at 
the  value  of  a  florin  in  that  country,  is  about  29s. 
They  are,  of  course,  allowed  nourishment  besides, 
which  consists  of  salted  meat,  bread,  and  as  much 
cheese,  butter,  and  milk,  as  they  ])lease.     The  term 
of  their  emi)loyment  is  usually  about  four  months. 
It  IS  evident,  therefore,  that  the  occupation  of  a 
shepherd  of  the  Alps  recjuires  some  knowledge.     It 
is  not  merely  looking  after  the  cattle,  and  leaning 
upon  his  crook  :  he  must  know  all  the  mystei"ies  of 
the  dairy,  whieh  are  neither  few  nor  simple  ;  and, 
judging    from    the    excellence    of   its    productions 
throughout  the  greater  part  of  Switzerland,  these 
shej>herds  must  be  well  versed  hi   their  trade.     I 
found  those  of  Mount  Albula  civil,  communicative, 
and  tolerably  intelligent.    They  seemed  to  feel  con- 
siderable pride  in  showing  me  their  utensils,  which, 
indeed,   they   well    might  ;    for  nothing  could   be 
cleaner  or  in  more  excellent  order,  than  the  uten- 
sils which  contained  the  produce  of  the  dairy,  in  all 
its  varieties  of  milk,  cream,   butter,  and   cheese. 
Every  traveller  has  spoken  of  the  excellence  of  the 
niilk  he  has  drunk  among  the  Alps  ;  and  I  must 
needs  add  my  testimony  to  that  of  others  ;  though 
I  must  acknowledge  that  I   thought  it  inferior  in 
richness  to  the  milk  I  have  drunk  in  Norway,  and, 
I  niay  perhaps  add,  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland. 
It  is  certainly  no  recommendation  to  the  thirsty 
traveller — at  least  it  ought  to  be  none — that  milk  is 
rich.     It  is,  indeed,  a  delicious,  but  scarcely  a  re- 
freshing beverage  ;  and  if  the  traveller  will  take 
my  advice,  he  will  follow  my  example,  and  drink 
the  milk  which  has  been  already  deprived  of  the 
cream. 

After  leaving  the  dairy,  I  went  rapidly  down  the 
mountain,  and,  passing  through  the  region  of  fir,  I 
found  myself,  in  about  two  hours,  in  the  lowest  de- 
file, from  which  1  occasionally  caught  glimpses  of 
the  valley  below  ;  and  about  five  in  the  afternoon 
I  reached  the  village  of  Pont,  in  the  Oher,  or  Upper 
Engadine.     I  need  scarcely  add,  that  the  descent 


into  the  Engadine  is  less,  by  at  least  2000  feet,  than 
the  ascent  from  Bergun — the  village  of  Pont  lying 
at  an  elevation  of  no  less  than  4800  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  Mediterranean. 

In  the  Engadine  the  traveller  is  not  directed  to 
the  inn  by  the  sign  painted  over  the  door,  or  swung 
before  it.     There  is  nothing  to  distinguish  an  inn 
from  any  other  house.    The  villagers  are  presumed 
to  be  acquainted  with  the  road  to  it ;  and  as  for 
strangei-s,  the  few  that  come  are  supposed  to  be  ver- 
sant  with  the  Roman,  and  consequently  able  to  ask 
the  way  to  the  auberge  ;  but,  as  I  did  not  possess 
this  knowledge,  I  was  some  time  in  discovering  the 
house  of  repose  ;    but  at  length,  a  certain  air   of 
bustle  and  importance  about  a  tolei-ably  stout  Gri- 
sonette,  of  forty  or  upwards,  who  stood  at  the  door 
of  a  large  house,  raised  a  suspicion  in  my  mind  that 
this  geutlew^oman  might  be  the  mistress  of  an  inn  ; 
and  in  this  expectation  I  accosted  her,  and  found 
that  I  had  judged  correctly.     She  did  not  herself 
speak  any  thing  but  the  Roman  ;  but  a  person  who 
lived  hard-by  was  immediately  found  to  act  as  an 
interpreter.      This   convenience  a  stranger    mav 
always  have,  in  almost  every  part  of  the  Engadine*; 
for  so  prone  are  the  natives  of  these  valleys  to  wan- 
der in  early  life  into  foreign  lands,  that   in  every 
village  several  are  to  be  found  who  have  returned 
with  the  savings  of  their  industry,  and  who  are  able 
to  speak  more  than  one  foreign  tongue.     In  this  inn 
I  got  a  tolerable  supper  of  pastry,  cheese,  bread, 
and  milk.     Each  of  the  articles  was  indeed  excel- 
lent of  its  kind,  especially  the  cheese,  the  produce 
of  the  neighbouring  mountain.     It  is  the  same  with 
cheese   in   Switzerland,  as   with  wine  in    France, 
Spain,  and  Italy.     You  meet,  in  little  districts,  with 
cheese  of  an  excellence  and  delicacy  in  flavour  pe- 
culiar to  itself,  differing  in  kind,  perhaps,  but  many 
degrees  in  quality  from  other  cheese  made  in  an  ad- 
joining valley.  Perhaps  it  may  be  difficult  to  assign 
a  satisfactory  reason  for  this  :  it  may  lie  in  the  skill 
of  thosfe  w  ho  superintend  the  dairy — in  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  spot  where  the  cheese  is  made — or  iu  the 
difference  in  pasture.     The  latter  reason  is  the  one 
assigned  by  the  natives  ;  though  they  have  never 
been  able  to  point  out  to  me  any  specific  difference 
in  the  nature  of  the  pasture  on  different  mountains. 
The  cheese  at  Pont  1  found  delicious  :  it  was  cer- 
tainly of  the  Gruyer  kind  ;    but   in  richness  and 
delicacy  of  flavour,  it  far  surpassed  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

COUNTRY  OF  THE  GRISONS — THE  OBER  AND  CNTER 

ENGADINE. 

The  Valley  of  the  Ober  Engadine,  and  the  River  Inn — Charac- 
ter of  the  Valley,  and  Rural  Economy — Grison  Villages  and 
Houses — Fernetz — Suss — Grison  Women — State  of  the  In- 
habitants of  the  Engadine — Inns  and  Shops — Intelligence 
of  many  of  the  Natives — Domestic  Economy  of  the  Inha- 
bitants of  the  two  Engadines — Winter  in  the  Engadine, 
and  Grison  Society — Privileges  peculiar  to  the  Villages — 
Contentment  of  the  Natives — Scenery  of  the  Unter  Enga- 
dine— Guarda — Character  of  the  Valley  of  the  Unter  Enga- 
dine, and  its  Productions— Fettam,  and  its  Professor — 
Details  respecting  the  Grison  Youth,  and  their  search  after 
Fortune — Education  in  the  Engadine — The  Clergj- — Jour- 
ney to  the  foot  of  the  Valley. 

I  LEFT  Pont  early  next  morning,  to  walk  down  the 
valley.    The  Inn,  which  was  destined  to  be  mv  com- 

c2 


20 


Tin:  G  111  SONS. 


[chap.  VIII. 


\¥ 


piiiiion  throu^litnit  tlu>  Eii<;a<line,  is  hero  but  a  tri- 
Hlii;^  stn-am — |)evliai>s  ten  yards  across.  At  I'oiit 
it  isscarrcly  twenty  miles  from  its  source,  wiiicli  is 
in  the  ^Maciers  of  i{rei;ai;lia  ;  but,  like  numy  (^ther 
things,  whicli,  in  their  he<,Mnnin^s  are  insi.  nificant, 
])Ut  which,  hke  itself,  the  conunencenient  of  an 
eternity,  are  invested  with  a  ;^n-andeur,  eonmiensu- 
rate  with  tlieir  future  destinies.  Tliis  river  jios- 
stsst'd  an  interest  in  my  eyes,  wliich  I  am  cerUiin 
it  could  not  have  coiinnanded,  if  its  coursi-  had  been 
destined  to  t«'rminate  durin;^  my  day's  walk.  The 
water  that  tlowed  beside  me  had  set  <»ut  on  a  lon<:;er 
)()urniv  than  any  otlur  in  Kuropr  ;  for.  after  tlow- 
in«4  throu;;h  the  Ku'jjadine,  the  Tyrol,  and  Bavaria, 
a  course  (»f  itself  of  400  miles,  it  joins  the  Dainibe 
at  i'as^au,  whicii,  althou;^di  a  lari;er  stream  at  that 
j)oint,  has  tlowed  a  slutrter  distance,  and  minified 
with  its  imperial  watei-s,  the  hm  travels  onward  to 
tlie  lUack  Sea,  watering;  the  whole  of  Austria,  cir- 
clinu;  beneath  the  proud  towers  of  its  metropolis, 
traversing:;  tlu-  wide  ]>astures  and  tields  of  Hun- 
gary, washing  the  wails  of  Tresburg  and  Test, 
sweeping  past  the  heights  of  IJelgrade,  and  setting 
limits,  as  it  Hows  towards  Asia,  to  the  power  of 
empires,  and  the  aml)ition  of  tliose  who  govern 
them. 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  Pont,  tlio  Ober  Enga- 
dine  is  at  least  a  league  wide;  but,  in  descending, 
it  i-apidly  contracts.  The  mountains  on  either  sidi', 
although  top})ed  with  snow,  do  not  appear  high, 
because  the  road,  along  whicii  you  travel,  is  itself 
not  much  below  the  i-egion  of  snow\  1  found  the 
wh(tle  country  undei*  meadow,  scarcely  any  of  w hich 
was  yet  ready  for  th«-  scythe  ;  an«l,  at  first,  one 
cannot  help  feeling  some  surpris<'  at  seeing  so  great 
a  (|uantity  of  grass,  ap}>arently  so  ill-proportioned 
to  the  probable  demand  ;  but  when  wf  consider 
tliat  the  moimrainsare  covered  with  cattle,  in  which 
consist  almost  tlu-  whole  riches  of  the  inhabitants, 
and  that  these  nuist  be  i)rovided  for  during  a  long 
winter  (»f  eight  months,  our  surprise  is  of  cmirse  at 
an  end.  It  is  onlv  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
villages  that  grain  is  to  be  found  in  any  consider- 
able (juantity  ;  and  this  never  exceeds  tlie  wants  of 
tlie  itdiabitants.  Kvi-rv  single  liouse  has  its  own 
jtatch  of  corn  for  its  own  consumption  ;  but  uj)on 
the  domestic  and  rural  economy  of  the  two  Enga- 
dines,  1  hope  to  be  ahle  to  speak  more  fully,  when 
I  iiave  made  the  tour  of  tlu'  c(tuntry. 

During  my  day's  walk,  I  jiassed  through  many 
large  villages,  the  names  of  which  1  do  not  ncol- 
lect,  hut  whose  si/e  appeared  to  me  very  dispropor- 
tionate to  the  extent  of  the  valley  in  which  I  found 
them.  The  great  size  of  the  houses,  iiowever,  partly 
accounts  foi-  this.  In  no  part  (jf  Europe  have  I 
seen  the  houses  of  the  natives  so  large,  as  I  found 
them  throughout  the  whole  of  the  I'nter  and  Ober 
Entradine.  liut  the  villaues  and  houses  of  the 
Engadine  merit  a  more  j)articular  deseription. 

A  village  in  every  part  of  the  Engadine  is  tlie 
same.  It  consists  of  one  street,  longer  or  shortt'r 
as  niay  be,  with  some  few  and  very  short  latt-ral 
openings,  scarcely  deservhig  tlie  name  of  str(>ets. 
In  some  part  of  the  street,  there  is  an  oi)en  space, 
with  a  fountain  in  the  centre — plain,  but  not  inele- 
gaiit  ;  and  closely  adjoining  the  village,  though 
seldom  forming  a  part  of  it,  is  the  village  church  — 
in  size  and  architecture  nearly  resembling  the 
churches  in  the  country  parishes  of  Scotland.  In 
all  this  there  is  nothing  remarkable  ;  but  in  the 


appearance  of  the  houses  wliich  form  the  village, 
the  same  cannot  be  said.  The  first  thing  one  re- 
marks, is  their  extraordinary  size.  The  walls 
which  enclose  the  dw.  lliiii;  of  a  substantial  Prison's 
house,  would  admit  within  them  the  largest  houses 
that  are  to  be  found  in  London,  with  some  few  ex- 
ceptions, (lenerally  spi'aking,  they  cover  an  area 
greater  than  that  oeeupie<l  hy  any  two  houses  in 
I'ortland  place  ;  but  1  must  of  course  explain,  that 
their  height  does  not  correspond  with  tluir  l)ulk  in 
other  n'spects.  They  never  exceed  two  stories  ;  and 
the  roof,  which  is  covered  with  s.piare  pieces  of 
wood,  laid  on  like  slates,  njion  which  trunks  of  tir- 
trees  are  placed  transversely,  falls  back  at  a  very 
obtuse  angle. 

Astonished  as  we  are,  fii"st,  with  the  size  of  the 
houses,  we  are  next  attracted  by  the  decorations  of 
their  exterior.     Here  the  skill  of  the  painter  has 
supplied  the  want  of  architectural  labour  ;  for,  upon 
the  white  plaster,  we  tiiul  painted,  in  lead-colour, 
the  finest  copies  of  (Jreek  and  Roman  designs.   The 
(h)or,  or  rather  gate,  has  its  painted  pillai-s— some 
Doric, some  Corinthian-- with  their  shafts  and  ca})i- 
tals  ;  and  so  well  arc  they  in  general  i>ainti'd,  that 
it  is  difficult,  until  you  api»roach  very  near,  to  be- 
lieve that  they  are  any  thing  else  than  the  work  of 
the  sculi)tor.     The  gateway  is  generally  spanned 
bv  a  fine  arch,  ornamented,  as  these  often  are  in 
architecture,  by    tasteful    designs.       Tlu-    win-lows 
have    generally    their   pillars,  and  are   often   sur- 
mounted   by    a   well-conceived    (Jreek    ])ediment. 
Sometimes,   indied,  every  i)art    of   the    walls   are 
painted  in  one  uniform  design,  the  whole  front  and 
sides  being  set  off  with  pillars  and  pilasters,  and  a 
tine  pediment  ;  so  that  such  a  budding,  if  it  stood 
single,  might  be  mistaken,  at  a  di.-taiice,  for  a  (ire- 
cian  temi>le.      It  is  difficult  to  undeistaiid  how  this 
custom  and  taste  have  arisen.     The  i)ainting  is  for 
the  most  part  old,  and  in  some  places  renewed,  but 
not  with  ecpial  skill  ;  an<l  np<»n  the  houses  recently 
erected,  nothing  of  the   kind  lias  been  attempted. 
These,   however,  are    but   few,  and   form    a    very 
trifling  excej)tion,  w  hen  speaking  of  the  appearance 
of  the  Engadine  villages.      1   cannot  conceive  any 
other  origin  of  so  singular  and  so  universal  a  juactici', 
than  that  suine  (Jrison  architect,  who  had  left  his 
native  valleys,  actpiired  in  Italy  a  taste  for  tlu-  classic 
models  of  that  land,  and,  returning  to  his  country, 
exercised  his  profession,  and,  at  the  same  time,  fetl 
his  recollection  of  the  glorious  things  he  had  seen, 
by  adorning  the  buildings  of  his  native  village.  The 
taste  might  soon  spread  ;  ami  ui  the  six  or  eight 
villages  of  the  Ober   Engadine,  a   few  years  only 
would  be  required  to  .siitist'y  its  demands.     In  all 
that   I   have  yet  said,  or  nuiy  still  say,  respecting 
the  villages  and  houses  of  the   Engadiiu-,  I  speak 
with  reference  to  both  the  Ober  and  Unter  Enga- 
dine, with   the  exception  of  the  painting  upon  the 
walls,  which  1  think  is  confined  to  the  Ober  Enga- 
dine ;  at  all  events,  it  does  not  extend  to  more  than 
one   village  in    the  lower  valUy.     Let  me  ad<l  to 
this  desci-iption  of  the  exterior  of  the  houses,  that 
u})on  some  part  of  the  wall,  generally  over  the  gate, 
is  found  an  inscription,  sometimes  in  lamiun,  some- 
times in  Latin,  indicating  the  i)eriod  at  which  the 
house  was  built  ;    setting   forth   the  name  of  the 
builder  ;  and  eontaining,  besides,  a  recommendation 
of  the  house  and  its  inhabitants  to  the  protection  of 
(jod.     It  remains  to  say  a  IV-w  words  respecting  the 
interior  of  the  houses. 


CMAl'.  MM.] 


THE  (HllSONS. 


21 


I 


When  von  enter  the  gateway,  yon  find  youreelf 
in  a  spacious  chamber,  with  an  earthen  floor,  and 
whicii  is  indeed  nothing  else  than  an  inner  court- 
yard roofed  in.  This  shapeless,  uiiornamented 
place  is  in  strange  contrast  with  the  finely-i)ro- 
portioned  gateway  by  which  you  enter.  This  cham- 
ber is  used  as  a  genei-al  storehouse.  Ranged  on 
one  side,  you  may  see  all  the  utensils  reipiired  in  the 
(lajrv — churns,  cheese-presses,  and  the  innumerable 
dishes  used  for  the  reception  of  the  milk — all  flat 
wooden  dishes,  as  clean,  to  use  a  common  exjires- 
sion,  as  hands  can  maki;  them.  On  another  side, 
von  see  a  good  assemblage  of  agricultural  imple- 
ments, together  with  ladders,  saws,  and  other  tools 
used  in  wright-work.  Several  spinning-wheels 
stand  in  one  corner  ;  a  (luantity  of  skins  are  heaj)ed 
in  another  ;  and  one  end  is  always  devoted  to  the 
iuel,  and  is  hea]K'd  with  wood  as  high  as  the  roof. 
From  this  large  sjiaceyou  enter  the  different  cham- 
bers ;  the  kitchen,  the  eating-room,  and  other 
rooms,  varying  in  number,  according  to  the  size  of 
the  house  and  the  necessities  of  the  family.  The 
furniture  of  these  rooms  is  alvvavs  abundant,  sub- 
stunt ial,  and  sometimes  ornamented  with  carved 
w(»od-work.  xVt  one  peasant's  house,  somewhere  in 
the  Lower  Engatline,  I  remarked  some  chaiiis  upon 
which  foliaire  was  so  well  exeeuti-d,  as  i^reatlv  to  ex- 
ceed  any  thing  1  have  seen  from  the  worksho[)  of  a 
London  upholsterer.  The  sleeping-rooms  are  al- 
most always  above,  and  scarcely  corx*es])oiid  in  con- 
venience with  the  lower  part  of  the  house.  Such 
are  the  habitations  of  the  tlrisons  of  the  Engadine. 

As  1  descended  towards  the  Lower  Engadine,  I 
found  the  country  more  agreeable.  The  Inn  flows 
in  a  deeper  channel,  the  road  generally  keeping  near 
it.  The  mountains  seem  to  be  higher,  and  the  banks 
of  the  river  and  the  sides  of  the  mountains  are  liet- 
ter  clothed  with  wood  ;  and  some  time  early  in  the 
afternoon,  I  reached  the  village  of  Zernetz,  which 
is  the  first  village  of  the  Unter  Engadine.  Here 
the  Inn  receives  a  tribute  in  the  waters  of  the  Spal ; 
and  it  is  near  this  place  that,  in  ](»'.io,  the  Duke  de 
Rtdian  gained  his  important  victories.  But  finding 
nothing  to  detain  me  in  this  ])lace,  I  pushed  on  to 
Suss,  the  largest  of  the  Engadine  villages,  where  1 
meant  to  pass  the  night.  Between  Zernetz  and 
Suss,  the  valley  might  be  s}»anned  by  a  giant  : 
during  at  least  a  league  it  is  not  a  hundred  vards 
across  ;  there  is  only  the  river  and  the  road,  such 
as  it  is. 

The  people  of  Suss  had  finished  the  toils  of  the 
•lay,  and  were  seated  before  their  doore  ;  and  at  the 
lountains  the  young  women  were  assembled,  wash- 
ing the  salad  that  was  to  garnish  the  sujiper-table. 
I  am  sorry  1  cannot  say  any  thing  in  favour  of  their 
jH-rsonal  appearance.  Neither  in  the  Engadine, 
nor  in  any  other  j»art  of  tlu;  country  of  the  (irisons, 
have  I  H(\n  one  female  countenance  that  might  jus- 
tify the  novelist  in  speaking  of  a  charming  Grison. 
1  liey  ar  '  not  only  nut  handsome,  but  they  are  po- 
sitively ugly  ;  and,  indeed,  the  same  may  be  said  of 
the  Swiss  woimii  generally,  with  some  few  excep- 
tions in  Geneva  and  Api)enzell. 

At  the  inn  of  Suss,  I  found  an  intellit;ent  travel- 
ling  merchant,  and  migratory  shojjkeeper  ;  an  inha- 
bitant, or  at  least  a  native  of  the  village,  who  owns 
a  shop  at  Caen,  in  Normandy,  and  who  carries  on  a 
trade  l»etween  his  own  valleys  and  Italy,  supplying 
the  inhabitants  with  tliose  few  articles  of  foreign 
gro'.vth  whicii  habit  has  made  necessary  even  in  the 


remotest  corners.  In  no  country  in  Europe  will  be 
found  so  few  poor  as  in  the  Engadine.  In  the  vil- 
lage of  Suss,  which  contains  about  GOO  inhabitants, 
there  is  not  a  single  individual  who  has  not  where- 
withal  to  live  comfortably — not  a  single  hidividual 
who  is  indebted  to  others  for  one  moi-sel  that  he 
eats.  This  is  a  fine  state  of  things,  and  may  w  ell 
render  the  inhabitants  proud  ;  but,  alas  !  it  is  a 
state  of  things  incompatible  with  those  many  wants, 
and  that  division  of  labour,  which  are  inseparal>le 
from  an  opulent  and  a  great  country.  In  this 
remote  village  there  are  many  rich  ;  and  some  wlio 
would  not  be  looked  upon  as  poor,  even  in  England. 
I  was  informed,  that  two  peasants  of  Suss  pos- 
sessed, each,  as  much  as  20,000/.  sterling  ! 

The  inns  in  the  Engadine  are  ill  supj)lied  with 
provisions  :  few  strangei-s  have  need  of  them  :  they 
are  only  frequented  by  the  villagers,  who  resort  there 
to  eat  their  moreel  of  cheese,  as  a  seasoning  to  their 
pint  of  wine.  I  generally  could  get  good  eggs,  milk, 
bread,  butter,  cheese,  and  sotuetimes  a  little  fish. 
It  was  in  this  inn  that  I  heard  the  eulogium  upon 
Grison  liberty,  mentioned  in  another  chapter.  I 
found  here  several  individuals,  whom,  but  for  their 
undue  reverence  for  the  shadow  of  liberty  enjoyed 
by  them,  I  would  have  termed  intelligent  men.  The 
habit,  so  prevalent,  of  seeking  fortunes  in  other 
countries,  and  of  returiung  to  invest  it  in  their 
own,  has  sprinkled  these  valleys  with  men  of  con- 
siderable information  and  acquirements  ;  and  in 
this  little  alehouse — for  it  was  nothing  better — in  a 
remote  corner  of  the  Grisons,  a  conversation  was 
carried  on,  far  superior  in  tone  to  any  that  I  have 
ever  heard  in  any  of  the  commercial  rooms  in  an 
English  inn.  1  was  somewhat  sur])rised,  upon 
being  conducted  to  my  chamber,  which  was  but  a 
garret,  to  find  the  pillow  w  ith  an  inner  coverhig  of 
blue  satin,  and  the  pillow-ca.se,  as  well  as  the  coun- 
terpane, set  off"  with  rich  lace,  at  least  nhie  inches 
broad. 

I  had  resolved  to  spend  the  following  day  in 
this  village,  for  being  one  of  the  largest  and  best- 
informed  places  I  should  meet  with,  and  lying, 
besides,  about  the  centre  of  the  valley  which  bears 
the  name  of  Ober  and  Unter  Engadine,  it  seemed 
to  me  a  likely  spot  to  obtain  information  respecting 
the  country  and  the  people. 

In  the  whole  of  the  Engadine,  the  land  belonirs 
to  the  peasantry,  who,  like  the  inhabitants  of  every 
other  place  where  this  state  of  things  exists,  vary 
greatly  in  the  extent  of  their  possessions.  If  a 
peasant  owns  from  eight  to  fifteen  cows,  and  land 
sufficient  for  their  su[q)ort,  as  well  as  for  growing 
what  is  consumed  in  his  own  family,  he  is  esteemed 
in  good  circumstances.  He  consumes  whatever 
part  of  the  produce  of  his  dairy  is  needed  at  home  : 
and  he  sells  the  surplus,  chiefly  the  cheese,  which 
he  keeps  till  the  arrival  of  the  travelling  merchant, 
who  buys  it  for  exportation.  Generally  speaking, 
an  Engadine  peasant  lives  entirely  upon  the  jiro- 
duce  of  his  land  ;  with  the  excej)tion  of  the  few 
articles  of  foreign  growth  required  in  his  family, 
such  as  coffee,  sugar,  and  wine.  These  he  finds  at 
the  house  of  the  inn-keeper,  who,  in  the  Engadine, 
is  always  a  retail-dealer  in  such  articles  ;  for  there 
is  not  a  shop  of  any  description  in  the  Unter  Enga- 
dine, and  only  one  or  two  in  the  Ober  Engadine. 
The  peasant  luis  his  own  cheese,  butter, milk,  eggs; 
and  kills  a  cow  or  a  pig  occasionally,  if  he  can  afford 
this,  keeping  a  part  of  it  fresh,  selling  a  little  to 


OJ 


THE  GRISUNS. 


[CHAr.   VIII, 


those  who  are  not  rich  enough  to  kill  any  of  their 
stock,  and  salting  the  rest  for  the  use  of  his  family. 
There  cannot  be  said  to  be  any  regidar  markets 
throughout  the  Engadine,  so  that  it  is  difficult  to 
say  what  is  the  value  of  the  dittVrent  articles  of 
subsistence.  There  is  no  occasion  for  markets,  be- 
cause it  is  nobody's  interest  either  to  sell  or  to  buy. 
Sometimes,  liowever,  meat  is  ottered  for  sale  in 
small  (juantities  ;  and  soinetinifs  an  over-abundant, 
or  a  scanty  supply  of  the  articles  of  the  dairy, 
tempts  some  to  sell,  and  forces  othei"S  to  buy.  In 
these  cases,  meat  sells  at  al)out  3d.  j)er  lb.,  butter 
about  8d.  ;  wiue  is  at  all  times  moderate  in  price 
throughout  the  Engadine,  and  good  in  quality.  Of 
course  none  is  grown  there  ;  it  is  all  imported  from 
the  V'ateline.  In  enumerating  the  articles  which 
the  Grison  of  the  Engadine  is  supplietl  with  from 
his  own  property,  I  omitted  to  mention  Hax,  which 
is  grown,  prepared,  spun,  and  woven,  without  ever 
leaving  his  house.  He  has  also  his  own  wool,  which 
is  converted  into  a  blue  coat,  without  passing 
through  the  hands  of  either  the  dyer  or  the  tailor  : 
the  latter  vocation  is  invariably  exercised  by  the 
females  of  the  house. 

Several  persons  with  whom  I  conversed  at  Suss, 
spoke   in  high  terms  of  the  hai)piness  of  the  inha- 
bitants.    "  How  can  we  be  otherwise  than  happy 
and  contented,"  said  they,  "■  when  we  have  ampK- 
means  of  living,  and  are  dependent  upon  nobody 
for  tlie  least  portion  of  that  which  contributes  to  our 
ease  V     This,  1  ailmittetl,  was  nmch  ;  and  when  1 
hinted  at  the  want  of  society,  and  the  rigour  of  a 
nine  months'  winter,  tiiey  made  light  of  the  latter ; 
and  inunediately  began  to  put  me  right  in  the  view 
1  took  of  their  societv.      Tliev  assure*!  me,  that  in 
the  winter  no  place  was  gayer  than   the   Enga<line. 
They  said   they  had    balls  and  parties  every  w.i<k, 
at  which  they  danced  merrily  antl  long,  drank  freely 
of  the   good    wine  of  tlu'  Vuteline,   and   ate   of  the 
excellent  pastry  for  which  the  Grisons  have  attained 
80  high  a  reputation.     They  admitted  that   their 
winter  was  indeed  long  and  rigorous  ;  but  then,  of 
what  constMjuence  was  this,   with  plenty  of  woixl  to 
be  had  f(»r  nothing  i     Such  is,  in  truth,  the  privi- 
lege   enjoyed     by    the    villages   of    the    Engadine. 
Every  village  has  a  certain  mountain  limit,  within 
which,  all  the  wood   is   free,  and  niay  be   cut   down 
and  carried  awav  bv  anv  one  who  chooses  to   taki' 
that    trouble.       A    privilege    like     this,    doubtless, 
smooths  the   severities  of  a   rigorous  winter  ;  and 
vet,  when  1  heard   these  villagers  of  the  innermost 
valley,  in  which  the  only  foreign  luxuries  are  sugar 
and   coftee,  where   even   wheat   is  cultivated  with 
ditticulty,  and  where  libraries  are  unknown,  speak 
in  lofty  terms   of  their  Italls  and   parties,  iind   the 
numerous  tKjnnu'us  of  their  winter  evenings,  I  could 
not  but  contrast,  in  my  own  mind,  a  winter  in  Lon- 
don, and  a  winter  in  tlie  Engadine  ;  and  picture  to 
myself  the  astonishment  of  a  villager  of  Suss,  wer«' 
it  possible  to  transport  him  fnma  one  of  bis  /tV-.s  to 
the  splendours  of  an  English  ball-room.     It  is  cer- 
tain, however,  that    I   found  every  one  contented  ; 
and   in   the   Engadine   nothing  more    need  be   de- 
sired.     It  is   not,  indeed,  in  all  cases,  a  jiroof  that 
a  j)eople   enjoys   the   greatest   possible    haj»piness, 
merely    because    we    find    them    contented    with 
their  condition.      Ignorance  and  superstition  may 
make  a   people  contented   with  slavery.       Of  this 
we   have,  untortunately,  examples  among  the   Eu- 
ropean nations.     Slotli,  and  a  low  state  of  moral 


feeling,  may  render  men  contented  with  beggary 
and  wretchedness,  in  a  land  the  most  favoured, 
w  here  plenty  might  nMgn,  and  luxury  revel ;  but 
the  Engadine  is  not  so  situated  ;  and  in  place  of 
grieving,  as  the  patriot  or  tlu'  ])hilanthroi)ist  may, 
at  the  spectiicle  t)f  contiiitment, where  contt'utment 
is  indicative  but  of  degradation,  this  general  con- 
tentment among  the  (Prisons  of  the  Engadine  is 
not  to  be  deplored,  for  there  is  neither  ignorance 
nor  superstition,  beggary  nor  wretchedness,  among 
them  ;  and  the  Engadine  is  not  a  c«)untry  where  dis- 
content could  produce  any  advantage  to  its  inhabit- 
ants, because  nothing  <-an  change  their  condition. 
The  country  is  incapal)le  of  greater  cultivation  than 
it  has  received.  All  has  l)een  dtwie  for  it  that  in- 
dustry anil  an  extreme  love  of  gain  can  devise. 
Wherever  an  ear  of  rye  will  ri|i«n,  there  it  is  to  be 
found.  But  in  a  country  King  between  three  and 
six  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea  (and 
this  ajiplies  to  the  bottom  of  the  vuUey,  not  to  the 
mountain-sides,  which  are  greatly  more  elevated), 
industry  wages  an  e(|ual  war  ag;unst  the  elements. 
Summer  does  not  begin  till  June,  and  ends  early  in 
September  ;  and  even  during  its  continuance,  the 
diliiientlv  laboured  fields  are  often  laid  waste  bv  a 
desolating  storm  of  hail,  or  entirely  swept  away  by 
the  resistless  torrents  that  descend  from  the  moun- 
tains. 

Having  received  all  the  information  I  could  at 
Suss,  I  left  it  very  early  in  the  morning  to  walk 
through  that  })art  of  the  Unter  Engadine  which  I 
had  not  yet  travelled,  as  far  as  the  defile  of  Finster- 
muntz.  From  this  journey  I  antici})ated  great 
pleasure;  because,  from  tlie  ju'rsons  at  (bur  and 
elsewhere,  with  whom  1  had  convex'sed,  an<l  whose 
trade  had  carried  them  through  this  valley,  I  un- 
derstood that,  in  ina^nitic(  nl  scenery,  it  might 
i-halK'Uge  a  compari.Nou  with  any  other  j)art  of 
Switzerland,  and  that,  in  some  points,  I  should  find 
it  eclipse  even  the  most  celebrated. 

I  never  travelled  along  any  road  traveling  a 
valley  so  circuitous  as  that  which  runs  through  the 
Lower  Engadine  ;  but  the  nature  of  the  country 
renders  it  necessary.  The  wide  and  dee})  beds  of 
the  tremendous  torrents  that  in  winter  desolate  this 
valley,  reach  some  thousand  feet  up  the  mountain 
sides  ;  so  that,  to  construct  even  the  most  nnper- 
fect  roatl,  it  is  necessary  to  carry  it  to  an  extreme 
heiirht  above  the  river,  otherwise  it  would  be  im- 
possible  to  cross  these  beds  of  the  torrents  ;  and 
evtMi  in  those  places  wlu-re  the  road  must  of  neces- 
sity cross  them,  the  j)assage  is  most  frightful,  and 
even  dangen^us.  The  narrowest  part  of  the  bed  is 
sought  out,  the  road  is  led  to  it,  and  a  few  logs  of 
timber  ari'  thrown  across,  and  covered  with  earth  ; 
but  the  outermost  logs  have  generally  given  way, 
the  earth  on  each  side  of  the  ravine  crundjling  l)e- 
neath  the  weight.  I  reached  a  most  terrific  bridge 
of  this  kind  before  arriving  at  (juarda.  The  bed 
of  the  torrent  descended  almost  perpendicularly, 
in  the  form  of  a  wide  tunnel,  at  least  two  thousand 
feet  to  the  river  ;  and  above,  a  fine  cataract  poured 
from  a  great  elevation,  and  thundered  below  the 
frail  and  crumbling  pathway  ;  and,  by-the-bye,  as  1 
have  mentioned  a  cataract,  let  me  add,  that  there 
are  numy  cataracts  both  in  the  Engadine,  and  in 
the  upper  valley  of  the  Rhine,  nameless  and  un- 
visited,  far  greater  both  in  volume  and  in  eleva- 
tion than  any  of  those  whose  reputation  atti'acts  to 
I  them  yearly  so  lai'ge  a  concoui'se  of  strangers.    For 


CHAP,  viii.] 


THE  GRISONS. 


23 


my  ov\Ti  part,  I  must  confess,  that  cataracts  have 
n<)  great  charm  for  me,  unless  the  volume  of  water 
be  so  great  as  to  produce  the  emotion  of  sublimity. 
The  lesser  cataracts,  or  rather  cascades,  are  pi'etty 
in<'redients  in  a  landscape  ;  but  I  would  not  go 
tcnrti'  to  see  any  cataract  less  than  the  fall  of  the 
Clvde,  which  1  feel  no  hesitation  in  preferring  to 
the  fall  of  the  Rhine  at  Shaff'hausen. 

At  the  little  village  of  Guarda  I  stopped  to  break- 
fast, after  a  very  long  and  fatiguing  walk.     This 
place,  although  marked  on  the  large  maps  of  Swit- 
zerland as  being  situated  upon  the  road,  is  in  fact 
Jit  some  distance  from  it.      It  stands  between  the 
road  and  the  I'iver,  upon  a  little  isolated  hill  ;  and 
opposite  to  it  are  the  ruins  of  a  ca-stle,  remarkable 
only  for  their  picturesque  site.      There   was  no- 
thing to  detain  me  in  the  village  of  Guarda  ;  and 
after  I'est  and  refreshment  I  regained  the  road,  and 
proceeded  down  the  valley.    The  general  character 
of  the  Unter  Engadine  is  this  : — The  Inn  flows  at 
the  ])ottom  of  a  deep  rocky  gorge,  sprinkled  with  fir 
and  mountain-ash.  The  rocks  that  dip  into  the  water 
rise  to  the  height  of  about  three  or  four  hundred 
feet  above  it.     Upon  the  summit  of  these,  there  is 
generally  a  rugged  platform  covered  with  stones  and 
shrubs.     Above  this,  rises  a  second  range  of  rocks. 
These  are  rich  in  the  boldest  and  most  striking 
scenery.     In   some   places  they   rise  from   one   to 
two  thousand  feet  perpendicularly  ;  in  other  places, 
they  are  broken  into  peaks,  ravines,  and  lesser  pre- 
cipices.    Sometimes,  in  looking  far  down,  you  may 
discover  among  the  rocks,  scattered  here  and  there, 
a  few  roods  where  a  crop  of  rye  or  barley  is  ripen- 
inir  bv  the  rays  of  a  short  summer  reflected  from 
the  naked  rocks  that  surround  it.    Patches  of  gniss, 
too,  sprinkled  with  a  few  cows  or  goats,  are  also 
seen  peeping  fr«>m  among  the  rocks.     At  the  top  of 
the  second  range  of  rocks  runs  the  roa  '  ;  and  here, 
also,  is  the  peoi)led  and  cultivated  part  of  the  val- 
ley.    Here  the  mountains  slope  backward,  leaving 
now  and  then  little  plains  of  half  a  mile  across,  or 
undulating  platforms  of  even  greater  width.    These, 
and  the  slopes  of  the  mountains,  are  covered  with 
";rass,  and  occasional  fields  of  rye.     In  these  also 
lie  the  villages,  around  which  the  wants  of  the  in- 
habitants have  forced  a  more  varied  product  from 
the  imwillinji  soil.     Small  enclosures  of  wheat  are 
seen.     Rye  is  more  prevalent  than  grass.     In  the 
corner  of  every  field  grows  a  little  flax  ;  and  by 
the  side  of  every  house  there  is  an  attempt  at  a 
garden,  whose   stock  is  confined  to  a  few  potatoes, 
cabbage,   and  lettuce.     A  few  gooseberry-bushes, 
too,  are  here  and  there  to  be  seen  ;  but  no  fruit- 
tree  of  any  kind  is  visible.    Above  the  })eopled  and 
cultivated  sIojjcs,  tln»   mountains  rise  to  the  region 
of  snow,  and  show,  throughout  the  valley  on  either 
side,  a  range  of  snow-peaks  and  naked  rocks.    Such 
is  the  aspect  of  the  Engadine. 

The  day  ujjou  which  I  walked  through  tliis  part 
of  the  Engadine,  was  intolerably  hot.  This,  and 
the  fatiguing  nature  of  the  road,  reiuh'red  my  pro- 
gress slow  ;  and  it  was  mid-day  before  I  reached 
the  village  of  Fettam.  Here  I  could  find  no 
auberge  ;  but  a  well-dressed  boy,  who  was  standing 
at  the  door  of  a  very  respectiible-looking  house,  and 
to  whom  I  addi-essed  myself  for  informatiim,  told 
me,  that  the  house  belonged  to  the  professor  ;  and, 
anxious  to  find  a  cool  resting-place,  as  well  as  to 
know  who  tliis  professor  at  Fettam  might  be,  I  took 
the  liberty  of  entering,  and  introducing  myself.     I 


found  a  white-haired  old  gentleman  of  fourscore 
years,  who  received  me  with  the  greatest  urbanity. 
He  was  just  going  to  dine,  and  urged  me  to  partake 
the  meal  with  him,  which  I  had  no  inclination  to 
refuse.  Three  vouths  sat  down  to  dinner  with  us  : 
and  the  dinner,  although  not  very  varied,  was 
abundant  and  wliolesome. 

The  old  gentleman  informed  me,  that  he  had 
lived  in  the  village  of  Fettam  ever  since  the  revolu- 
tion of  1789.  He  was  a  Frenchman  ;  and,  having 
lost  his  all  in  that  fearful  season  of  strife  and 
anarcliy,  he  had  left  his  native  land,  and  travelled 
into  the  country  of  the  Grisons,  and  into  the  valley 
of  the  Engadine.  In  this  village  he  found  a  home 
in  the  house  of  the  cure,  on  condition  of  his  teaching 
his  children  the  French,  Latin,  and  German  lan- 
guages. At  forty,  he  was  not  too  old  to  enter  into 
matrimonial  engagements  ;  and  the  good  minister 
being  called  from  his  duties  in  this  world,  and  having 
one  daughter  of  twentv-eiijht  vears  old,  she  ac- 
cepted  her  instructor,  and  for  thirty  yeai*s  they  had 
lived  happily  together.  But  the  old  man  was  now 
once  more  left  alone.  During  all  this  while,  he  had 
employed  himself  in  the  instruction  of  youth.  The 
richer  peasants,  who  intended  that  one  of  their  fa- 
mily should  seek  his  fortune  in  other  countries,  sent 
him  to  live  with  the  professor,  there  to  acquire  the 
language  of  the  people  among  whom  fortune  was  to 
be  sought  ;  and  as  he  had  grown  old,  he  had  grown 
rich.  He  had  still  three  pupils  ;  but  he  told  me 
he  could  live  without  them  ;  though,  having  been 
so  long  accustomed  to  the  business  of  instruction, 
he  found  it  necessary  to  his  happiness  to  continue 
his  vocation. 

This  gentleman  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
people  among  whom  he  lived.  How,  indeed,  could 
he  be  otherwise,  after  forty  years'  residence  among 
them  I  From  him  1  obtained  an  important  corro- 
i  boration  of  what  I  had  heard  and  seen  respecting 
the  condition  and  character  of  the  inhabitants  of 
these  valleys.  He  told  me  that  the  people  were 
proud  of  their  freedom,  and  contented  with  their 
condition.  He  explained  to  me,  that  the  reason 
why  so  many  of  the  young  men  left  their  country  to 
seek  fortune  in  other  quarters,  was  not  owing  to  any 
dissatisfaction  with  home,  nor  even  to  a  vague  desire 
of  seeing  the  world,  but  that  this  arose  from  a  cer- 
tain hal)it  of  thinking,  which  teaches  every  peasant 
of  the  Engadine,  from  his  earliest  youth,  to  look  with 
horror  upon  a  state  of  dependence  ;  and  as  every  fa- 
ther cannot  leave  to  a  numerous  family  a  patrimony 
sufficient  to  secure  them  all  against  dependence, 
one  or  two  sacrifice  themselves  to  the  general  good  : 
and  so  sober  and  industrious  is  the  general  character 
of  the  Grisons  of  these  valleys,  that  the  greater 
number  of  those  who  have  left  their  home  when 
youths,  return  to  it  before  their  best  years  be  over, 
and  before  the  death  of  friends  and  relatives  has  rob- 
bed home  of  its  greatest  chann.  For  the  most  part, 
these  young  men  carry  away  with  them  fi-om  300  to 
500  francs.  They  direct  their  steps  to  any  of  the 
great  cities — to  Paris,  Marseilles,  Lyons,  or  Bour- 
deaux,  and  perhaps  spend  a  hundred  francs  upon 
their  jouniey.  Three  or  four  hundred  francs  are 
therefore  left,  one-half  of  which,  perhaps,  they  offer  to 
the  master  of  any  well-frequented  c<ift  or  restnuratit, 
as  a  fee  to  be  taken  as  a  garqon.  Activity  and  in- 
dustry recommend  them  to  the  master,  civility  to 
the  customers,  and  saving  habits  soon  produce  a 
little  store.     A   knowledge  of  pastry,  acquired  at 


24 


THE  GHISONS. 


[chap.  IX. 


-* 


\        ^x  f.,1  .    nnfl   iiprham    after  !  and  a  stripe  of  land  KM)  yards  across  by  its  side, 

home,  renders  them  useful  ;    and   Perhaps    alter     an         i'  •  ^  sheltered   from 

some  time,  this  department  is  -"^^-^^^  ^^^^^^^^  [jr  in  1  saw  a\>.LL  of  some  good  wheat,  and, 
care.  At  all  events,  m  the  ^ll^^^^ ^^^U ^"^  "^^^^  here  and  there,  1  noticed  a  few  cherry- 
they  generally  open  a  confeet.oner  «  «  '"  '  ;^"^       i       ^^^^  fruit-trees  1  had  seen  in  the  Enga- 

aeMuireasuttieientsumtocarrybacktotheunatuc  trees  }^^J^l'^\^^^  j  ^^^^^^  sevei-al  of  our  forest- 
trees,  and  an  infinity  of  wild  roses,  besides  a 
nuniber  of  shrubs  that  could  not  have  nourished 
in  anv  other  part  of  the  valley.  The  ditferenee 
in  elevation  between  S'lra  Juiiia,  the  highest  in- 


vallev  though  not  vet  sufficient  to  purchase  repose 
They 'then  become  travelling  merchants  between 
their  own  countrv  and  th«^sc>  parts  where  they  pur- 
ehase  forei-Mi  articles  for  home-consumption  ;  and 
it  freciuently  happens,  too,  that,  even  after  their 
permanent  settlement  at  home,  they  retam  a  shop 
in  some  distant  city,  to  which  they  pay  an  annual 
visit  In  the  absence  of  the  proprietor,  the  busi- 
ness of  tlu>  shop  is  not  intrusted  to  a  stranger,  >)ut 
is  alwavs  conducted  by  some  young  man  of  the 
.same  vidlev,  or,  perhaps,  of  the  same  village,  who 
is  fortunate  enough  to  get  at  once  into  so  exce  lent 
a  road  to  fortune,  and  who  willingly  juiys  some  hun- 
dred trancs  for  the  privilege.  In  time,  he  purchases 
the  proprietorv,  and  becomes  rich  in  iiis  turn. 

Before  leaving  the  house  of  my  kind  entertainer, 
I  (luestioned  him  respecting  the  state  of  e.lucation 
in  the  Eiigadine.     He  told  me  there  was  no  want 
of  it.     Schools  were  every  where  to  be  had,  where 
readin<',  writing,  and  aritlinu'tic  were  tauglit,at  the 
moderate  charge  of  thirty  .<<',(,  {Unl)  a  month— 
this  being   a  charge  every  one  in    the    Engadme 
can  attord  to  pay.     Every  child  goes  to  school,  and 
eonseipientlv  there  are  very  few  who  are  ignorant  ot 
the  essential  elements  of  knowledge.      I   omitted  to 
in(iuire  w  hat  salary  the  schoolmasters  receive  ;  but, 
jutlging  from  the  scanty  salary  of  the  ministers,  1 
shouUriiresume  the  remuneration  must  be  small. 
These  have  not  more  than  2.V.  i>er  annum  ;  and, 
like   the  ministers  of  religion   in   every  country,   1 
understood  that  some  were  tlcscrving  of  more,  and 
othei-s  of  scarcely  what  they  had.     The  laboui-s  ot 
a  minister  of  religion,  one   would  think,  must   be 
light  and  pleasant  in  a  country  like  the  Engadine, 
where   there  is  nothing  to  tcinjit  the  rich  into  the 
Howery  {laths  of  vice,  and  ^^h(■l•e  that  worst  enemy 
of  morality,  poverty,  is  unknown.     There  is  not  (»n<- 
pauper  iu' the  two  Engadines  ;  yrt,  even  then',   1 


haVnted  part  of  the  Upper  Engadme,  and  Martins 
bruck,  the  lowest  part  of  the  Enter  Engadine, 
is  nearlv  ^000  feet  ;  which  might  well  account  lor 
a  greater  dittereiice  in  the  vegetable  productions 
than  I  have  remarked.  It  was  after  sunset  when 
I  reached  the  extreme  point  of  the  Engadine,  iMar- 
tinsbruck,  where  the  Austrian  arms,  displayed  over 
the  door  of  the  custom-house  hard-by,  led  me  to 
look  back  ui)on  the  valley  through  which  1  had 
passed  with  greater  pleasure,  and  ni)on  the  boasts 
even  of  Grisou  liberty  with  greater  indulgence. 


chai'ti:r  IX. 

THE  COUNTRY  OF  THE  GlllSONS— THE  VALLEY  OF  THE 
LTl'EU    RHINE. 

Return  to  Chur,  througli  tlie  Engadines— Instance  of  Gross 
Imposition— The  Batlis  of  Plctfcrs-State  of  Society  in 
Chur— Reunions  and  Balls— Statistical  Details— Journey 
up  the  Rheinwaia  by  ihe  Sources  of  the  Rhine— Character 
of  the  Valley  of  the"  lpi)er  Rhine— {'harming  Scenery— 
llanz  — Crison  Imposition  —  Examples  of  Dishonesty- 
Road  to  Dissentis— Picture  of  Idleness— Domestic  Eco 
nomy  of  the  Inliahitants  of  the  Valley  of  the  Upper  Rhine 
—Wages  of  Labour — Dissentis. 


I    (oii.i^  not  regain  Chur  by  any  other  road  than 

that   bv  which    I  had  come  from  it ;  and,  as  it  is 

somewhat  tedious  to  walk  over  the  same   ground 

twii-e,  1  accepted  the  offer  of  a  seat  in  a  little  chariot, 

nartlv  on  sprmus,  which  was  going  with   some  tri- 

InTL  r;;;  ;;::\r;^:;;;;i:ty  wouUl  ^lui;:  in'    \  llm    merdlancUse  to  suss,  and  early,  next  morning 

lead      n     "      ''       Xu   i^id  my  mission   thwarted,      I   was  en  route.     I   fouinl   it   impossib  e,  however, 

md  n^    L^^^  aULd.    It  isirne,  1  have  n.-ith..!-      with  con.mon  prudence,  to  iiut^  much  us^o^  die 

to  contend  auainst  the  sins  that   et.s.iaiv  the  rich      cnvetuence  I  had  bargained  ioi       ^1'^;    '^^    .^;;'^^ 

an      or  the  temptations  that  drag   on  the  p..or  ;      asleep  every  moment,  and   m  roads  nuchas  Hiavc 


but  envies  and  jealousii-s,  human  failings  and  hu- 
man passions,  are  found  here,  as  elsewliere  ;  and 
hi  the   Engandine  even,  a  man  may   live  '  without 

Uod  in  the  world.'" 

About  two  o'clock  I  took  leave  of  the  professor, 
and  continued  my  journey.     After  passing  through 
Eettam,  the  road  gradually  appnjaches  the  rivi-r  ; 
and    durin*'"   the   remainder  of  the   day,  I   skirted 
precipices,''that,  accustome<l    as    I    have    been    to 
mountain-scenes,  1  could  not  help  hurrying  by,  so 
fearful  was  their  depth,  and  so   nnproticted   the 
])ath.   Most  valleys  open  and  expand  as  we  (lesceiul  ; 
l)ut  the  Engadine  forms  an  exception.     The  Ober 
Enu'adine  is  wider  than  the  Enter  Eugadhie  ;  and 
the~upper  part  of  the  Enter  Engadine  is  wider  than 
the  lower  part   of   it.      I   found    the   valley  grow 
•  n-ailually  narrower  as  I  proceeded.     Sonietinus  it 
exi.uiule'd   a  little,  and  then  I  found   a  village,  se- 
veral of  which  I  passed  during  the  aftern(»on.     But 
the  plains  became  less  and   less  frciueiit  ;   and  at 
leiiU'th,  a))out  a  league  and  a  half  befure   reaching 
Martinsbruck,  there   is  room  only    fur   the  river, 


described,  and  where  a  variation  of  three  inclw  s  in 
the  direction  of  the  wheel  was  sutlicieiit  to  bring 
mv  journey  to  a  sud.leii  and  very  disagreeable  ter- 
mination, i  found  it  impossible  to  remain  seated  in 
the  vehicle,  and  I  accordingly  perlbrmed  the  jour- 

nev  on  foot. 

To  ascend  and  to  descend  the  same  valley,  are 
not    pi-i-cisi-lv  the  same  thing  as  resj.ects  scenery. 
New   and   intinitely   varied   combinations  are  pro- 
(huH-d   bv   viiwing*  scenery   from  diHVrent   jMiints  ; 
so  that,  although  1  haind  it  tedious  in  some  respects 
to  retrace  mv  r..ute,  1  was  freciumtly  rewarded  by 
the  view  of  Iiatural  objects  which  luul  been  huhUn 
or  unnoticed  in  descen<ling  the  valley,  and  by  tin 
m-w  forms  in  which  remnnbered  olijects  appeared. 
But  1  have  no  intention  of  detailing  a  sec(.nd  time 
the  ])articulars  of  a  journey  through  the  same  val- 
leys.    There  is  only  one  circumstance  that  1  must 
iK.t  neglect  to  record.      I  arrived  at  Suss  on  Satur- 
day, and    wished   to  procet  d  next   day  to  Bout  iu 
another  little  vehicle,  of  which  I  had  bargained  to 
be  the  driver,  unwilling  a  second  time  to  put  my 


CHAf. 


IX.] 


the  orisons. 


25 


life  in  the  hands  of  a  sleepy  Orison ;  but  late  at 
iii-^ht  the  person  with  whom  I  had  agreed  came  to 
inform  me,  that  travelling  was  not  permitted  on 
Sundav  in  the  Engadine,  and  that,  therefore,  I  must 
wait  until  Monday.  I  need  scarcely  say  that  I  de- 
clared the  bargain  void,  and  that  next  morning, 
betimes,  I  was  on  my  way  to  Pont,  regardless  of 
the  injunction  against  locomotion. 

Tiiere  is  yet  one  other  circumstance  in  the  jour- 
ney worth  recording,  chiefly  because  it  throws 
some  light  upon  the  moral  character  of  the  people. 
The  general  character  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Eni^adine  may  be  included  under  that  of  the  Ori- 
sons, of  which  I  shall  s])eak  by-and-by  ;  but,  as 
exemplifying  one  ti'ait  in  that  character,  a  love  of 
money,  to  be  gratified  at  the  expense  of  moral  prin- 
cii)le,'the  following  little  incident  may  not  be  unin- 
structive. 

When  I  arrived  at  Pont  the  weather  was  insuf- 
ferably hot,  so  much  so,  that  a  walk  over  Mount 
Albula  was  a  thing  to  be  dreaded  ;  and  I  resolved, 
accordingly,  to  hire  a  horse.     Eor  this  purpose,  I 
addressed  "myself  to  the  mistress  of  the  inn,  and  she 
immediately  sent  for  a  man  who  had  a  horse  to  let 
out.     The  man  arrived,  and  said  he  had  an  excel- 
lent horse,  for  the  use  of  which   he  demanded  ten 
francs.     It  was  two  days'  journey,  he  said.     He 
could  not  return  to  Pont  that  day,  for  it  was  already 
mid-day,  and  he  should  have  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
keeping  his  horse  all  night  at  Bergun.     I  knew  it 
was  iin[)0ssible  to  return  to  Pont  that  night,  and 
that,  tlierefore,  the  man  might  reasonably  charge 
two  days  ;  but  still  1  knew  he  asked  too  much,  and 
refused  to  give  him  what  he  demanded.     "  Well," 
said   the  man,  ''  the  horse  does  not  belong  to  me, 
but  to  my  father;  Ell  go  and  fetch  him,  and  we'll 
see  what  he  says  ;"  and  accordingly  the  man  ran 
off,  and  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  an  old  man, 
who  said  he  was  the  owner  of  the  horse,  and  that, 
taking  into  account  the  long  tune  the  journey  would 
occui)y,  and  the  expense  of  remaining  all  night  on 
the  other  side  the  mountain,  he  could  not  take  less 
than  ten  francs  ;  and  I  was  accordingly  obliged  to 
agree  to  the  demand.     Now,  attend  to  the  sequel. 
I  passed  Mount  Albula  upon  the  horse,  arrived  at 
Bergun,  and   went  to  the  inn,  where  I  again  met 
the  retired  i)astry-co(dv  with  whom  I  had  break- 
fasted a  few  days  ago,  and  to  him  I  mentioned  tliat 
I  had  hired  a  horse  at  Pont,  and  what   I   had  paid 
for  it.     "  What  a  pity  it  is,"  said  he,  "  you  did  not 
know  that  there  was  a  man  and  a  horse  from  this 
place,  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain,  who  are 
returning  iiome  this  evening.     I  sent  tliem  over 
yesterday  for  something   I  had  need  of  from   the 
Vateline,  and  you  would  not  have  paid  the  fourth 
part  of  ten  francs  if  you  had  come  by  them."    I  im- 
nuMliately  siis]»ected  that  I  had  been  imposed  ui)on, 
and  that  the  horse   in   (piestion  was  in  reality  the 
horse  for  which  I  had  paid  ten  francs  ;  and  my 
suspicion  turned  out  to  be  just.     The  man  who  was 
conversiu;;  with   me  went  out  and  ascertained  the 
fact ;  and  thus,  for  the  sake  of  four  <n'  five  francs, 
the  mi-tress  of  the  inn,  her  daughter,  tlie  man  who 
tii-st  bargained  about  the  horse,  the  man  who  pre- 
t  ntled  to  be  his  father,  and  a  respectable-looking 
man  who  acted  as  an  intequ-eter,  conspired  to  cheat 
a  stranger,  by  inventing  a  story,  and  sujiporting  the 
imposition  by  a  pack  of  lies  !    This  incident,  I  fear, 
may  have  occupied  more  room  than  it  is  worth  ; 
but  I  would  rather  run  the  risk  of  being  charged 


turbulent  stream,  called  the  Tamina. 
but  few  strangers  resident 


with  prolixity,  than  omit  any  thing  which  may  in 
the  smallest  degree  tend  to  throw  light  upon  the 
character  of  the  people. 

The  next  day,  I  again  arrived  at  Chur  ;  and  the 
day  following,  I  made  an  excursion  to  the  Bains  de 
Pleffers.  The  road  to  them  led  me  through  a  pic- 
turesque country,  tolerably  populous  on  the  side  of 
Chur  at  least,  and  offering,  now  and  then,  some 
pleasant  views  up  the  different  valleys.  The  baths 
are  situated  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  gorge,  sur- 
rounded by  very  savage  scenery,  and  close  by  a 

There  were 
at  the  time  ;  but  the 
season  was  not  sufficiently  advanced.  I  believe 
the  reputation  of  the  baths  is  considerable,  and  oc- 
casionally attracts  many  strangei-s.  The  watei*s 
only  flow  during  summer,  and  not  very  abundant. 
There  are  two  springs,  one  2O5  degrees  of  Reau- 
mur, the  other  30  degrees.  I  tasted  the  water, 
and  found  it  without  any  peculiarity.  The  baths 
belong  to  the  abbey,  which  is  situated  half  a 
league  distant,  and  which,  in  former  times,  exer- 
cised an  extensive  sovereignty.  All  the  buildings, 
too,  for  the  reception  of  strangei-s,  belong  to  the 
convent,  and  return  a  very  handsome  revenue  to 
the  reliijieux.  I  did  not  walk  as  far  as  the  con- 
vent,  though  I  believe  I  might  have  been  repaid 
for  my  trouble  ;  for  I  understand  its  site  is  very 
picturesque,  and  the  building  itself  large,  and  hand- 
somely constructed.  L^pon  the  whole,  I  was  not 
much  pleased  with  the  Bains  de  Pleffers ;  and, 
unless  forced  to  their  neighbourhood  by  disease,  1 
think  I  should  not  select  them  as  agreeable  sum- 
mer quarters. 

I  remained  a  few  days  in  Chur,  making  excur- 
sions in  the  neighbourhood,  and  informing  myself 
res])ecting  the  mannei's  and  character  of  the  Ori- 
sons ;  and,  before  proceeding  upon  my  jimmey,  let 
me  here  note  down  tlie  results.  In  the  Orisons,  as 
in  many  other  parts  of  Switzerland,  the  sexes 
rarely  mingle  in  society.  A  man  seldom  visits  in 
company  with  his  wife  ;  and  it  scarcely  ever  hap- 
pens that  young  men  and  women  are  found  in  the 
same  party,  unless  when  visits  are  made  to  the 
houses  of  near  relatives.  But  to  this  strict  limita- 
tion of  intercourse  there  is  one  very  extraordinary 
exception.  In  Chur,  there  is  what  they  call  a  re- 
union of  young  men  ;  that  is,  unmarried  men,  from 
about  twenty  to  twenty-eight  years  old.  During 
the  winter,  this  society  has  two  or  three  balls, 
generally  given  at  some  place  out  of  town  ;  and 
each  member  of  this  reunion^  which  comprises  all 
the  respectable  young  men  of  the  town  and  neigh- 
bourhood, invites  a  voung  ladv.  The  invitation  is 
always  accepted,  with  consent  of  her  jareuts ;  and 
on  the  appointed  evening,  the  young  lady  is  put 
under  the  protection  of  her  cavalier,  who  conducts 
her  in  a  sledge  or  carriage  to  the  place  aj)pointed 
for  the  ball.  None  of  the  parents  are  present. 
The  i)arty  is  composed  entirely  of  young  unmarried 
pei-sons.  The  ball  continues  till  three  or  four  next 
morning  ;  and  when  it  breaks  up,  each  gentleman 
conducts  his  partner  home.  This,  I  say,  is  a  very 
extraordinary  exception  to  the  strictness  otherwise 
observed  in  the  hitercom-se  between  young  persons 
of  opposite  sexes,  and  cannot  fail  to  produce  its  re- 
sults. The  Orisons  are  doubtless  a.s  susceptible  as 
the  people  of  other  countries  ;  and  it  is  evident, 
that  a  custom  like  this  must  greatly  encourage  the 
formation  of  attachments.     Now,  what  would  any 


20 


THE  ORISONS. 


[CHAF.  IX, 


one  naturally  infer  from  the  existence  of  this  usa^'e, 
knowinjr  to  what  it  must  lead  ?     They  would  pre- 
sume, that  the  younj;  men  coniposin<^  this  rfuinoii 
were  all  of  them  youii^  men  of  so  mueh  respect- 
ability, and  of  such  worldly  prospects,  that   it  was 
almost  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the  ])arents  of 
the  young  ladies  to  which  of  them  their  daughtei-s 
were  united.     Nay,  one  might  almost  go  the  length 
of  inferring,  that' this  rmnloii  was  fonned  by  tlie 
young  men,  and  sanctioned  by  the  old  people,  pur- 
posely to  facilitate  the  marriage  of  sons  and  daugh- 
ters.   But  all  this  is  far  fn.m  being  the  case  :  then- 
are  no  such  things  as  man-iages  of  inclination.     It, 
as  must  often  be  the  case,  a  proposal  is  made  l)y  a 
member  of  this  reunion  to  tlie  young  lady  whom  he 
has  been  accustomed  to  escort,  it   immediately  be- 
comes a  matter  of  diplomacy.      If  the   suitor  be 
agreeable  to  the  young  lady's  parents,  he  is  accepted, 
and  the  fiancte  goes  to  no  more  balls,  even  in  com- 
pany with  her  intended  husband  :  her  visiting  <lays 
are  over  until  the  man-iage  takes  ]»lace  ;  but  if  the 
marriage  proposed  be  not  acceptable  to  the  parents 
of  the  young  lady,  there  is  an  end  of  the  affair ; 
she  must  get  the  better  of  her  attachment,  and  may 
continue  to  go  to  the  balls,  though  eti(iuette  and 
prudence,  of  course,  forbid  that  she  should  continue 
to  have  the  same  escort.     It  is  iiuite  impossible  to 
conceive  any  thing   worse    calculated    to   promote 
happiness  than  this.      It  is  a  tissue  of  cruelty,  and 
cannot  fail  to  engender  the  most  fatal  results. 

Learning  the  existence  of  such  a  custom  as  this, 
it  was  natural  to  make  a  few  in(iuiries  into  the  state 
of  morals.  These  I  ascertained  to  be  liigh,  and 
that  certain  results,  which  in  other  countries  would 
almost  infallibly  arise  froni  a  similar  cause,  were 
here  unknown.  I  could  learn  no  instance  in  which 
the  existence  of  a  former  attachment  had  interfered 
with  the  duties  of  wedded  lift'  ;  nor  could  I  luar  of 
any  case  in  which  the  confidence  reposed  in  the 
young  men  of  the  reunion  had  been  abused.  These 
are  curious  facts,  scarcely  to  be  accounted  for 
upon  common  jirinciples. 

There  are  some  other  facts  worth  noticing,  re- 
lating to  the  state  of  society  at  Chur.  There  are 
various  reunions  of  men  of  all  ages,  from  which 
ladies  are  entirely  exclude<l  ;  ])ut  there  no  rainions 
of  ladies,  who  occupy  thems<'lves  entirely  with  the 
cares  of  their  household  and  their  families,  and 
never  visit,  excepting  at  periodical  meetings  of  re- 
latives. But  a  well-informed  man,  an  inhabitant  of 
Chur,  engaged  in  the  transit  trade,  assigiied  a  rea- 
son for  this  secluded  life,  and  why  the  ladies  had  no 
re-unions  among  themselves.  "  Our  notions  of 
equality,"  said  he,  "  permit  that  men  of  different 
stations  should  associate  together  ;  and  this  is  for- 
tunate, in  a  place  where  society  is  so  limited  as  it 
is  at  Chur.  At  the  reunion  here,  I  meet  my  baker, 
my  butcher,  and  men  of  very  different  grades  in 
life  ;  but  they  are  well-informed  men  ;  and  while 
we  talk  ove/the  politics  of  the  day,  we  remember 
only  that  we  are  citizens  of  the  same  state,  and  en- 
joy the  same  privileges.  But  the  ladi<s  do  not  feel 
as  we  feel  ;  they  are  not  so  ])enet rated  with  the 
spirit  of  equality  ;  their  education  has  not  taught 
them  to  feel  the  value  of  political  rights  ;  their  i)re- 
judices,  therefore,  remain  with  them  ;  and  although 
I  find  pleasure  in  intercourse  with  my  butcher  aufl 
baker,  my  wife  would  feel  none  in  gossiping  with 
the  butcher's  or  the  baker's  wife."  1  found  this 
reasoning  satisfactory  enough.     I  attended  one  of 


the  reunions,  and,  with  the  exception  of  some  ab- 
surd boasting  about  political  i>rivileges,  I  found 
reason  to  be  pleased  with  the  conversation,  and 
certainly  conceived  from  it  a  very  favourable  idea 
of  Orison  information.  History,  geography,  and 
the  political  state  of  Kuroi)e,  formed  the  topics  of 
discourse  ;  and  some  few  seemed  also  to  have  a  little 
ac(iuaintance  with  the  literature  of  England.  I  un- 
derstood, howi-ver,  that  general  literature  is  l)ut 
little  cultivated,  and  that  then?  is  no  good  library 
in  the  counti'y. 

The  Orisons  is  the  largest  canton  of  the  con- 
federation, next  to  Berne.     They  say  it  derives  its 
name  from  the  gray  colour  of  the   men's  dnssrs  ; 
but  if  so,  the  name  outlives  the  cause  from  which 
it  originated,  because  at  present  the  men's  coats 
and  pantaloons  are  almost  universally  blue.     The 
two  great  valleys  of  the  (Jrisons,  are  the  valley  of 
the  Inn,  which  comprises  the  two   Engadines,  and 
the  valley  of  the  Upper  Rhim',  in  the  lower  part  of 
which  Chur  is  situated.     There  are  several  other 
lateral   valleys  ;  but  far  inferior  to  these  in  extent 
and  ])opulation.     The    country  contains   no    jdains 
whatever.     I  have  already  mentioned  the  transit  of 
goods  by  the  Splugen,  as  a  source  of  w  ealth  to  Chur, 
with  other  parts  of  the  Orisons.     There  is  an  ex- 
tensive trade  in  cattle  with  Italy,  returning  to  the 
country,  as  some  say,  a  profit  of  50,000/.     The  ex- 
port of  cheese  is  very  inconsiderable  ;  it  is  chiefly 
consumed  among  tliemselves,  though  a  little  of  the 
coarser  kinds  passes  into  France  and  Italy.     The 
cheeses  of  the  finest  kind  are  too  delicate  to  bear 
transportation.    Bread,  wine,  vegetables,  and  fruit, 
are  dear  in  the  Orisons.     They  do  not  grow  a  third 
of  the  wheat  they  consume,  and  scarcely  a  half  of 
the  rye.     A  little  w  ine  is  nuide  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  valleys,  and  is  not  disagreeable  in  flavour  ;  but 
is  so  small  in  (juantity,  that  the  price  of  foreign 
wine  is  scarcely  affected  by  it  ;  and,  excepting  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Chur  and  Mayenheld,  and  in 
some  low  parts  of  the  valley  of  liregaglia,  it  is  only 
the   hardier    kinds    of    vegetal>les    that   arrive   at 
pei-fection  ;  and  the  cherry  is  the  only  abundant 
fruit. 

The  route  I  selected  to  pass  from  Chur  to  the 
central  parts  of  Switzerland,  is  the  only  one  I  could 
have  chosen,  except  that  by  which  1  had  arrived. 
There  is  no  carriage-road— 1  might  say  no  road  at 
all— from  any  of  the  other  cantons  of  Switzerland 
int+>  the  Orisons,  excepting  by  Mayenfield,  where 
the  road  branches  into  two,  one  leading  to  the  Wal- 
lenslatter  lake,  by  which  the  reader  will  recollect 
to  have  already  travtlled  with  me  ;  the  other  run- 
ning due  north,  skirting  the  Tyrol,  and  leading  to 
St.  Oall,  &c.  The  route  1  resolved  to  take  from 
Chur,  was  to  ascend  the  valley  of  the  Upper  Rhine, 
called  the  (Jrison  Oberland,  or  Rheinwald,  and  the 
valley  of  Tavetch,  to  ]»ass  between  Mounts  Badus 
and  Tombohorn,  by  the  sources  of  the  Rhine,  and 
so  reach  the  Canton  of  Uri.  By  adopting  this  route, 
I  should  have  the  advantage  of  having  journeyed 
through  almost  every  i)art  of  the  (Prisons,  and  of 
seeing  a  part  of  Switzerland  almost  untravelled. 

I  left  Chur,  as  usual,  at  break  of  day,  well  satis- 
fied w  ith  my  treatment  in  the  house  of  Daniel  Denz  ; 
and  after  about  an  hour's  walk  through  a  very  fine 
fi-rtile  country,  I  found  myself  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine,  which  I  was  now' to  trace  upwards  to  that 
infancy,  from  which  the  mightiest  river  and  the 
tiniest  rill  must  alike  begin  its  race. 


CHAP.  IX.] 


THE  ORISONS. 


27 


L 


There  are  few  rivers  more  interesting  than  the 
Rhine,  whether  on  account  of  the  variety  of  coun- 
tries through  which  it  passes,  the  charming  scenery 
to  be  found  on  its  banks,  or  the  historical  associa- 
tions witli  w  hich  it  is  connected.  The  course  of  the 
Rhine  is  not  so  long,  by  some  hundred  miles,  as 
that  of  the  Danube,  nor  does  it  bathe  the  walls  of  so 
manv  great  and  metropolitan  cities.  Commercially, 
however,  it  is  a  river  of  greater  importance.  The 
free  navigation  of  the  Rliine  is  of  so  much  import- 
ance, as  to  form  an  article  of  treaties,  and  to  set 
nations  by  the  ears.  The  ])ros]>erity  of  Frankfort, 
and  of  many  other  important  places,  depends  upon 
it  ;  and,  without  the  Rhine  and  the  Mouse,  the  Low- 
Countries  could  never  have  acquired  a  consequence 
among  the  countries  of  Europe,  which,  fi*om  their 
extent,  they  are  not  entitled  to  ])ossess.  The 
Upper  Rhine  may  be  said  to  extend  from  its  source 
to  its  entry  into  the  lake  of  Constance.  The  Lower 
Rhine  to  comprehend  its  course  from  the  lake  of 
Constance  to  the  Oerman  Ocean.  The  fall,  of 
coui-se,  interrupts  the  navigation  of  the  river,  so 
that  the  navigation  of  the  Upper  and  Lower  Rhine 
is  entirely  distinct  ;  but  the  navigation  of  the  Upper 
Rhine  is  of  verv  inferior  moment. 

The  Rhine,  where  I  now  met  with  it,  is  not  much 
larger  than  the  River  Derwent  at  Matlock.  It  is 
certainlv  not  so  large  as  the  Tweed  at  Melrose.  Its 
watere  are  extremely  transparent,  as,  indeed,  the 
Rhine  is  well  know  n  to  be  throughout  all  its  course. 
A  fine  broad  road  leads  from  Chur  as  far  as  RicJie- 
nau,  three  leagues  from  Chur  ;  but  at  this  j)lace  it 
turns  to  the  left,  leading  into  Italy  ;  and  the  road 
up  the  Rhine  then  becomes  what  we  should  call  in 
England  a  cart-road  only.  Richenau  is  a  large  and 
handsome  inn,  used  by  the  inhabitants  of  Chur  as  a 
place  of  festivity  ;  and  it  is  there  that  the  reunion  of 
young  persons,  of  which  1  liave  already  spoken,  is 
generally  held  during  the  winter. 

I  do  not  recollect,  in  any  part  of  Switzerland,  to 
have  travelled  through  so  captivating  a  country  as 
that  which  lies  between  Richenau  and  IJanz,  a  vil- 
lage lying  about  ten  leagues  up  the  Rhine.  Some- 
times the  road  skirts  the  river — always  a  pleasant 
eomj)anion,even  when  it  runs  away  from  us  ;  some- 
times it  mounts  up  a  steep  bank,  overhung  with 
charming  foliage,  and  winds  along  the  face  of  the 
rocks,  while  only  occasional  glimpses  are  caught 
of  the  stream  that  sparkles  bt^low  ;  then  we  descend 
again,  and  pass  through  a  little  plain,  green  and 
shady,  over  which  the  river  strays  in  a  hundred 
windings,  and  again  the  steep  banks  force  the  road 
ujtward  ;  and  now  we  leave  the  river  for  a  sea- 
son ;  and,  after  many  ascents  and  descents,  and 
frequent  turnings,  we  find  ourselves  among  those 
back  alj>ine  valleys,  nnIui-Ii  to  me  form  the  most 
chai'ming  feature  of  Swiss  scenery.  It  was  a  cap- 
tivating scene  that  opened  before  me  ;  it  was  a 
basin  among  the  mountains,  and  the  road  made 
the  circuit  of  it.  The  Rhine  flowed  about  a  league 
to  the  left,  but  it  was  not  visible — a  high  wall 
of  wooded  rocks  shut  it  out.  In  the  basin  below, 
a  plain  of  a  mile  across,  hay-harvest  was  gather- 
ing ; — some  part  of  the  plain  was  a  smooth  and 
verdant  carpet,  other  parts  were  dotted  with  hay- 
ricks, and  on  half  a  dozen  little  eminences  in  this 
basin  were  placed  as  many  cottages.  Behind,  the 
mountains  rose  in  various  ledges,  falling  backward 
and  backward,  but  not  in  any  order  ; — hillocks  gar- 
nished the  sides  of  the  mountains,  and  knolls  rose 


upon  the  little  mountain -platforms,  all  of  the  freshest 
green  ;  and  numerous  herds  of  cattle  browsed  upon 
every  height.  Far  back  upon  the  mountains,  were 
deeper  valleys  and  wooded  ravines  ;  and  from  the 
highest  and  most  distant  ridge  were  seen  numerous 
cascades,  which  had  united  into  the  one  stream, 
that  slowly  wandered  over  the  little  plain  at  my 
feet.  I  w ish  it  were  possible,  by  means  of  words, 
to  exhibit  to  the  reader  a  living  picture,  and  that  I 
possessed  that  power.  It  was  long  before  the  road 
returned  to  the  river.  It  first  made  many  windings 
among  the  mountains,  passing  through  one  or  two 
little  villages^ — villages  forming  little  worlds  within 
themselves,  because  beyond  the  din  of  the  great 
world,  and  showing  the  traveller  scenes  among 
which  the  great  highways  of  the  world  can  never 
lead  him.  At  length  I  found  myself  again  above 
the  river,  which  1  saw  at  an  immeasurable  depth 
below,  skirting  the  edge  of  one  of  the  most  frightful 
precipices  1  ever  beheld  ;  and  gradually  the  road 
descended,  till  it  reached  the  brink  of  the  Rhine, 
then  flowing  in  diminished  volume  through  a  Uttle 
winding  wooded  vallev.  I  cannot  tell  how  all  this 
day  passed  away.  1  frequently  sat  down  among  the 
beautiful  spots  I  passed  through  ;  and  it  is  possible 
I  may  have  di'eamed  away  an  hour.  But  1  know, 
that,* when  I  reached  the  river,  it  was  sparkling 
beneath  the  last  rays  of  the  sun,  that  came 
slanting  over  the  distant  mountain-tops  ;  and  the 
last  league  of  my  journey,  the  moon  lighted  me  on  my 
way.  I  wandered  a  considerable  w  hile  through  the 
streets  of  this  little  town,  before  I  was  able  to  find 
the  inn.  Everybody  was  in  bed  ;  but  at  length  I 
stumbled  upon  what  seemed  rather  an  occasional 
inn,  than  a  regular  rendezvous  for  strangers  ;  and, 
indeed,  where  so  few  sti*angers  come,  the  business 
of  an  auher<f(de  would  be  but  an  unprofitable  one. 

It  seems  to  have  been  formerly  the  custom  in 
the  Orisons,  for  the  rich  who  built  a  house,  to  build 
it  in  the  form  of  a  castle,  and  to  ornament  the  in- 
terior w  ith  a  variety  of  woodwork.  The  room  into 
which  I  was  ushered  was  most  spacious,  large,  and 
lofty  ;  and  the  roof,  walls,  and  doorways,  were  co- 
vered with  a  profusion  of  delicate  carving.  So  was 
the  furniture  ;  and  I  noticed  that  the  round  table 
in  the  centre  might  have  served  as  the  model  of 
one  of  those  modern  circular  loo-tables,  which  stand 
upon  what  upholsterers  call  pillar  and  block.  New- 
fashions  are  nothing  but  old  fashions  revived  ;  and 
it  might  perhaps  tend  to  lower  our  estimate  of  their 
importance,  could  we  always  know  the  source  from 
which  they  have  originated. 

I  can  scarcely  choose  a  fitter  time  than  while  I 
am  speaking  of  llanz,  to  say  a  few  words  of  Orison 
honesty.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  inducement  to  travel 
through  a  countrv  so  interesting  as  the  Orisons — 
interesting  from  the  grandeur  of  its  scenery — mter- 
esting  from  the  peculiarities  of  its  natural  and 
moral  aspect — should  be  in  any  degree  counterba- 
lanced by  the  unpleasant  knowledge,  that  every 
man's  object  is  to  cheat  you  ;  and  that,  moreover, 
any  attempt  to  resist  even  the  grossest  robbery, 
will  be  followed  by  abuse  and  insult,  sometimes 
even  by  violence  ;  and  yet  such  is  the  state  of 
things  throughout  the  country  of  the  Orisons.  I 
do  not  allude  to  what  I  would  call  nmpU  impoiUion. 
Overcharges  a  stranger  must  submit  to  ;  and  the 
traveller  will  do  wisely  in  making  up  his  mind  to 
bear  these  quietly.  But  the  imposition  practised 
upon   travellers  throughout    the    Orison   country 


m 


Tin:  cKisoNS. 


[chap,  IX. 


I     I 


i  is  of  a   different  kind,  and   amounts   to  n.bbory. 
'■  This  is  less  excusable,  too,ainon<;  the  (irisons,  tlian 
in  any  other  part  of  Swit/.erhmd,  and  must  be  attri- 
buted, amonj;  them,  to  an  innate  want  of  honesty. 
In  the  more  travelled  parts  of  Switzerland,  inter- 
course with  stnin;,'ers  may  have  corrujited  tiie  na- 
tural simplicity  of  the   natives.     When  the  conti- 
nent was  first  opened  to  the  Enijlish,  they  scattered 
tlieir  money  with  tlie  most  lavish  hand,  me:usurin<:j 
their  bounty  not  by  the  wants  of  the  nativ»s,  an<l 
the  scale  of  things  abroad,  but  by  the  high   war- 
prices  of  England  ;  so  that  upon  the  principle,  that 
a  thing  is  worth  what  it  will  bring,  the  Swiss  adai>ted 
tlu'ir  demands  to  this  rule  ;  and,  even  at  this  day, 
although  the  majority  of    travelling    English  act 
with  greater  prudence,  there  are  still  many  excep- 
tions ;  and  when  you  offer  a  Swiss  something  rea- 
sonable and  just  for  his  services,  nothing   is  more 
common  than  to  be  told,  that  itn  M'>ft.<h  ur  ^lii<j/ais 
gave  so  and  so  the  other  day  for  a  similar  service, 
naming  a  sum  two  or  three  limes  greater  than  you 
have  offered.     But  the  (irisons   have  no  such  ex- 
amples of  folly  to  bring  in  sui)port  of  their  extor- 
tions ;  and  these  extortions  are,  besides,  far  greater, 
as  well  as  of  a  different  character.     I  have  alreaily 
given  one  example  of  a  consj)iracy  to  cheat,  and   1 
could  recount  twenty  more.   1  scarcely  ever  changed 
a  piece  of  money  in  the   (irisons,  that  an  attempt 
was  not  made  to  give  less  than   its   value  ;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  presuming  ui>on  my  ignorance  of 
Swiss  coinage,  nion*  y  either  altogether  false,  ot  di'- 
preciated    value,  (u-'useless  in   the  country  of  the 
(irisons,  ma<le  a  part  of  the  change.     Moderate 
overcharges  1  tlo  not  complain  of,  because  1  lay  my 
account   with  them.     But  these,  when  very  gross, 
beconu>  mere  robbery  ;  and  of  this  description  was 
the  demand  made  at  llanz,  where  1  now  am.    1  had  j 
bread,  milk,  and  two  eggs  for  sui)i)er — this  was  all 
the  house  afforded  ;  an<I  for  breakfast,  1  had  bread, 
butter,  sugar,  and  hot  water  to  make  tea,  which   1 
carried   with   me.     Tht;   whole  of  these   could  not 
have  been   worth   one  franc  ;  and  in  the  morning, 
when  I  demanded  my  bill,  1  was  told   it  amounted 
to  iiinf  fhiiics.    I  reijuested  to  know  the  particulars. 
Supper  three  francs,  breakfast   time   francs,  bed 
three  francs.  1  told  him  the  charge  was  quite  absurd. 
He  shrugged  his  slu)ulders,   1  told  him  it  was  at  least 
three  times  what   would  be  charged  for  the  same 
accommoilation  in  England.     "  C<t<f  ^'O^slblc  r  said 
he,  with  the  greatest  coolness  ;  "  lunb  nous  soinmes 
a  present  en  »S'(rk>v.''    1  told  him  1  would  not  pay  it. 
"  How  can  you  helj)  it  V  said  he,  with   the    utmost 
effrontery  ;  and,  in  short,  1  purchased  leave  to  go 
upon  my  journey,  by  submitting   to  be  robbed.      I 
could  mention  several  other  iiistances  of  robbery  to 
match  this.     And   with   respect  to  begging  hi  the 
(jlrist)ns,  how  do  the  peasants  manage  to  reconcile 
tlieir    cui)idity    with    tlieir    independence  I       They 
manage  in   this  way.     They  enqdoy  their  children 
to  beg  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Chur  ;  and,  on  the 
road  to  the  Jiatn.^  dc  ri('ffti\<,  where  the  inhabitants 
are  accustomed  to  see  strangers,  you  cannot  pass  a 
hamlet,  witiiout  being  ussaiU'd  by  children,  while 
the  parents,  richer  perhaps  than  }  ou  are,  stand  at 
the  door  with  an  air  of  (Irison  independence.     But 
this   is  not  all — when  I  have  refu>ed   to  give  any 
thing  (and,  1  need  scarcely  say,  I  always  did  re- 
fuse), 1  have  been  fre(iuently  hooted  at,  and  pelted 
with  stones  ;  and,  upon  one  occasion,  when  1  turned 
ic 


back,  to  bestow   a  little   wholesome    cha-stisenKUt 


upon  some  boys  past  the  age  of  children,  two  or 
three  men,  and  as  many  women,  all  of  whom  liad 
seen  the  misconduct  of  the  boys,  rushed  from  the 
cotUige-door,  and  showed,  by  their  menaces,  that  I 
should  act  wisely  in  submitting  to  be  pelted  with 
stones  in  so  free  a  country  us  the  (irisons.  So  much 
for  (irison  honesty,  and  Cirison  civilization. 

The  situation  of  Hanz,  the  town  where  I  was  so 
grossly  imposed  upon,  is  particularly  agreeable. 
The  Rhine  is  here  joined  by  a  considerable  stri-am, 
called  the  Cileimer,  which  adds  at  least  one-third  to 
its  waters. 

In  ascending  the  Rhine  from  Hanz  to  Dissentis, 
the   road   geiuraily  keeps  mar  to   the   rivir.      The 
greater  narrowness  of  the  valley  forces  them  to  be 
close  companions.     The   character  of  the  valley  is 
now  cimsiderably  changed.    It  is  not  only  narrower, 
but  wilder  and  less  fertile.   The  crojis  of  grain  were 
scaiitv  ;  but  the  ^rass  on  the  meadows  was  tine  and 
abundant.       I   noticed   a    considerable   (juantity  of 
land  lying  waste,  that  might  have  been  under  tillage. 
The  fields  were  less  carefully  prei>ared  than  in  the 
lower  parts  of  the  valley,  the  road  much  worse,  and 
the  villages   jioorer  and   dirtier  ;  altogether,  there 
appeared  a  want  of  industry,  of  which  I  had  seiii    | 
no  trace  in  any  other  i)art  of  the    (irison   country.    ] 
All  this  was  explained  uj«on  entering  a  pretty  large    | 
village  about  mid-day.     The  men   were  assembled 
in  an  open   area   in  front  of  the   church,  standing, 
sitting,  walking  uj)  and  down  ;    the   wonu  n  were 
sitting  at  their  doois,  or  leaning  out  of  the  windows  ; 
no  one  was  in  the  fields  ;  it  wasa /o«/-  d*  j\te,  some 
saint's  day  ;  but  which  sauit,  1  forget.     The  inha- 
bitants of  this    part   of  the   valKy   .f  the    Upper 
Rhine  all  profess   the   Roman  catholic   laitli  ;  and, 
unfortunately  for  this  district,  it  hap{tens,  that  tlio.se 
at  the  head  of  religious  affairs  lend  too  jiositive  a 
sanction   to  the  ol)servan(e  of  those  feasts,  which 
are  not  obligatory  upon  all  catholics,  but  which  an- 
left  to  the   conscience,  and   which    vary  in  almost 
every  jurisdiction.      Inaction  could   not  have  been 
more  iii(d-aj>r(>pos,  than  at   the   present   moment ; 
the  ground  was  covered  with  hay,  for  the  most  j'art 
cut,  and  ready  to  l»e  housed  ;  the  weather  had  been 
unsettled,  and  still  looked  dubious,  but  all  morning 
the   sun    had    been   out  ;    and  a  better  afternoon, 
either  for  making  or   leading  hay,  could  not  have 
been  desired  ;  and  yet  the  whole  population  of  the 
village  was  idle.      1   pity,  but  do  not  blame  the  vil- 
lyirt-i-f,; — the  fault  does  not  rest  with  them. 

^riie  inliabitants  of  the  valleys  of  the  Ujtper 
Rhine  resemble,  in  their  domestic  economy,  those 
of  the  Engadine,  and  other  parts  of  the  (Jrisons. 
Like  them,  they  are  proprietors,  and,  like  them, 
live  u})on  the  produce  of  their  land.  Nothing  is 
bought  in  these  valleys,  excepting  coffee,  sugar, 
indigo,  and  salt.  Excepting  the  trade  of  tailor, 
which  is  exercised  by  the  females  of  every  family, 
the  ordinary  handicrafts  are  followi'd  by  individuals 
lired  to  tiiem  ;  and  the  wages  of  labour  throughout 
the  (Jrisuns  are  high.  A  iaiionrer  in  the  helds  re- 
ceives from  thirty  sous  (lod.)  up  to  2s.  ;  a  car- 
penter's wages  are  three  francs  per  day  ;  a  mason's 
scarct'lv  Kss  ;  a  shoemaker's  two  francs  ;  so  that 
the  industrious  find  amjile  remuneration. 

Jf  a  traveller  ask  tlu-  distance  from  one  place  to 
another  in  the  (irisons,  the  rej)ly  is  somewhat  i»uz- 
zling,  Sujjposing  the  distance  to  l»e  two  leagues, 
if  \ou  are  on  foot,  the  answer  will  be  two  hours  ;  if 
on'  horseback,  oiie  hour;  if  in  any  wheeled  con- 


/•  »• 


niAP.  X.] 


THE  GRISONS. 


29 


vevance,  as  many  hours  as  the  person  to  whom  you 
ad«h-ess 'yourself  thinks  sufficient  for  the  journey  ; 
so  that  all  hour  means  no  specific  distance,  biit  ex- 
i)resses  whatever  distance  you  are  able  to  go  in  an 
hour.  As  I  walked  out  of  the  holiday  village,  I 
saw  a  considerable  number  of  the  inhabitants  as- 
sembled by  tlie  river-side  shooting  at  a  target — an 
exercise  very  much  i)ractiscd  throughout  Switzer- 
land, and  much  encouraged  by  the  government.  I 
did  not  stop  to  observe  their  skill.  I  was  sorry  to 
see  so  many  persons  spending  the  afternoon  in  idle- 
ness, when'  close  by  were  several  fields  of  hay, 
whiclt  a  few  hours'  labour  might  have  secured. 

'l"he  character  of  the  valley  was  now  materially 
cliano-ed.  It  was  quite  an  ui)land  valley.  The 
Rhine  was  shrunk  into  a  stream  not  thirty  yards 
across.  There  was  no  grain  ;  and  fir  was  the  only 
wood  to  be  seen  ;  l»ut  gigantic  firs  they  were,  such 
as  i  had  never  seen,  excepting  in  Norway.  The 
road  in  this  part  of  the  valley  is  fitted  only  for  a 
pedestrian,  though  carts  occasionally  pass  along  it. 
In  one  j.lace  it  had  entirely  given  way  ;  and  I  saw 
the  mark,  and  part  of  the  remains,  of  the  veliicle 
that  had  fallen  down,  liefore  reaching  Dissentis, 
you  enter  among  the  moimtains,  and  the  village 
stands  ujx)!!  an  outer  elevated  ])latform,  tlie  Rhine 
ff(»wing  in  a  deep  bed  below,  with  all  the  charac- 
teristics of  a  mountain-stream.  The  extreme  bad- 
ness of  the  road  had  made  the  day's  journey  fatigu- 
iii"  ;  and  I  was  well  pleased,  therefore,  to  find 
mvself  entering  the  town,  especially  as  a  storm  was 
evidently  brooding. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IHE  GUISONS. 

Tlic  Scenery  of  the  Lower  and  the  Upper  Rhine  compared — 
Dissentis,  and  the  Valley  of  Tavetch — Life  in  the  remote 
Alpine  Valleys— Passage  of  the  Mountains — Ciamut — The 
Hhine  near  its  Sources — Ohservations  upon  the  Sources  of 
Hivcrs,  and  Description  of  the  Sources  of  the  Khine — 
Mountain  Prospects— The  Lake  of  the  Oberalp,  and 
Soun-es  of  the  Reuss — A  dangerous  Bog — Descent  into 
the  Canton  of  Uri — The  Valley  of  Ursern. 

With  Dissentis  ends  the  valley  of  the  lq)per  Rhine  ; 
and  here  the  valley  of  Tavetch  begins,  if  the  prin- 
cipal feature  in  the  scenery  of  a  valley  be  consi- 
dered to  lie  the  river  that  traverses  it,  tlien  tliere 
is  no  comj)arison  between  the  scenery  of  the  valleys 
of  the  Upper  and  Lower  Rhine.  The  Lower  Rhine 
is  a  majestic  river  ;  the  Ujiper  Rhine  an  inconsi- 
derable stream.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  river  is 
to  be  considered  but  one,  and  not  the  most  import- 
ant feature  in  the  landscape,  the  valley  of  the  Upper 
Rhine,  I  rather  think,  is  entitled  to  be  pri'ferred. 
For  my  own  part,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  according 
it  the  preference,  chiefly  because  of  the  greater 
variety  which  it  includes.  The  finest  scenery  be- 
comes tedious  by  repetition :  and,  with  all  the 
attractions  of  the  Lower  Rhine,  it  can  scarcely  be 
denied,  that,  in  the  character  of  its  banks,  there  is 
a  sameness  that  in  some  degree  damps  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  voyage.  But  the  scenery  of  the  Rhine, 
as  the  Lpwer  Rhine  is  called  par  exceUeuc*:,  is  so 
great  a  favourite  with  everybody,  that  1  dare  not 
say  any  thing  more  in  disparagement  of  it. 

I  had  scarcely  taken  my  seat  in  the  inn,  when 
the  storm  1  had  seen  broodm^  burst  among  the 


mountains  ;  and  as  I  saw  it  take  the  direction  of 
the  valley  I  had  ascended,  1  recollected  the  /o?<r  de 
fttCy  and  the  hay-fields  that  were  already  drenched 
with  rain.  One  afternoon  of  idleness  had  thus 
created  a  necessity  for  several  days'  labour,  which 
might  otherwise  have  been  employed  in  the  culti- 
vation of  waste  land,  or  upon  the  fields  already 
under  imperfect  tillage. 

The  iim  at  Dissentis  is  almost  as  bad  as  inn  can 
be  ;  but  this  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  since  its 
services  are  so  seldom  required.  1  could  get  no- 
thing but  bread,  so  sour  as  to  be  quite  uneatable, 
and  hot  water,  with  which  I  again  manufactured 
my  favourite  beverage.  Even  milk  was  scarce 
here.  All  the  cows  were  high  in  the  mountains  ; 
and  the  milk  that  had  been  brought  down  in  the 
morning  was  expended.  At  llanz,  however,  where 
I  had  been  cheated,  and  where  1  found  the  bi'ead 
excellent,  I  had  revenged  myself  by  putting  a  cou- 
l)le  of  loaves  in  my  ]»ocket  ;  and  these  I  found 
useful  at  Dissentis.  The  traveller  among  the  Gri- 
sons  pays  the  same,  whether  he  consume  the  arti- 
cles furnished  in  the  house,  or  those  which  he 
brings  along  with  him.  The  least  charge  ever 
made  is  a  franc  and  a  half,  even  if  nothing  but  hot 
water  be  supplied.  In  such  inns  as  this,  one  is 
strongly  reminded  of  the  i-emote  inns  of  our  own 
country,  not  by  similitude,  but  by  contrast  ;  for  in 
England,  however  poor  a  table  may  be  served  out, 
one  may  alwavs  find  a  comfortable  seat  in  a  snug 
corner,  w  here  neither  wind  nor  ram  can  reach,  and 
where,  in  a  raw  and  chill  evening,  the  traveller 
enjoys  the  warmth  and  cheerfulness  of  a  blazing 
fire.  But  here,  at  Dissentis,  in  as  Y2i\\  an  evening 
as  I  ever  felt  in  my  own  country,  in  place  of  warmth 
and  comfort,  there  was  not  even  shelter  from  the 
storm.  The  rain  beat  in  at  every  one  of  the  thi*ee 
windows  ;  and  five  or  six  streams  were  straying 
along  the  floor. 

Dissentis  is  the  last  village  of  the  Orisons  iu  the 
direction  of  Central  Switzerland.  Some  hamlets, 
of  twenty  or  thirty  houses,  lie  higher  up  among  the 
mountains — wretched  places,  of  which  I  may  say  a 
few  words  when  1  pass  through  them.  Dissentis 
lies  no  less  than  4000  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea,  so  that  rye  is  almost  the  only  kind  of  grain 
cultivated,  and  that  not  iu  great  quantities  ;  but 
if  the  inhabitants  of  the  Engadine,  in  place  of  the 
natives  in  this  vallev,  owned  the  land  round  Dis- 
sentis,  it  would  be  turned  to  a  very  different  ac- 
count :  grass  would  be  seen  where  there  is  nothing 
but  ruslies  ;  rye  would  take  the  place  of  coarse 
grass  ;  and  oats,  barley,  and  perhaps  even  a  little 
wheat,  might  nestle  in  the  sheltered  nooks.  When 
si)eaking  of  the  Engadine,  I  did  not  enlarge  suffi- 
ciently upon  the  industry  of  the  inhabitants  ;  but  it 
deserves  a  panegyric.  There  is  not  a  foot  of  waste 
land  in  the  Engadine,  the  lowest  part  of  which  is 
not  much  lower  than  the  top  of  Snowdon.  Where- 
ever  grass  will  grow,  there  it  is  ;  wherever  a  rock 
will  bear  a  blade,  verdure  is  seen  upon  it  ;  wherever 
rye  will  succeed,  there  it  is  cultivated.  Barley 
and  oats  have  also  their  appropriate  spots  ;  and 
wherever  it  is  possible  to  ripen  a  little  patch  of 
wheat,  the  cultivation  of  it  is  attempted. 

In  passing  through  such  a  place  as  Dissentis,  we 
are  apt  to  say  :  "  How  Ls  it  possible  for  any  one  to 
pass  his  days  in  such  a  place  as  this  1"  The  feel- 
in«rR  that  iiive  rise  to  this  reflection  are  natui*al 
enough,  because  we  suppose  ourselves,  with  all  our 


i 


I 


30 


THE  GRISONS. 


[chap.  X. 


ClIAl'.  XI.] 


URI. 


'M 


.,1 


recollections  and   acquired   habits,   placed    \n  the 
situation  of  the  inhabitants.     It   is  impossible,  by 
anv  effort  of  the  iniairination,  to  free  ourselves  of 
these  so  entirely,  as  to  be  able  to  jud^'e  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  inhabitants.      At  the   same  tnne,    I 
am  not  a  convert  to  the  doctrine  which  teaches, 
that  happiness  is  nearly  e<iuaily  distributed  ;  and 
that  the  native  of  Tlrrni  dA  Fu<>jo,  who  wanders 
half-naked  upon  his  inhospitable  shore,  is  as  happy 
as  the  enlightened  inhabitant  of  a  metropolitan  city. 
If  so,  to  what  purpose  is  the  ditVusion  of  knowled<;e  \ 
And 'why  attempt  to  raise  men  in  the  scale  of  hu- 
manity {     It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  i-,Mvoi-ance 
is  e(iuivalent  to  enjoyment  ;  and  that  he  who  never 
tasted  a  pleasure  is  *not  the  less  happy,  inasmuch 
as  he  cannot  feel  the  want  he  has  never  enjoyed. 
This,  I  sav,  is  an  error,  and  would  strike  at  the  root 
of  aU  impVovement.     Man   has  many  capabilities  ; 
and  the  more  of  these  that  are  called   into  action, 
the  more  numerous  are  his  sources  of  enjoyment. 
The  inhabitant  of  Dissentis  is  less  hapjty  than  the 
inhabitant  of  Paris  or   London;  and  our  surprise 
that  any  one  can  pass   his  life  in  such  a  place,  is 
therefore  not  only  natural,  but  philosophical.     But, 
to  return  from  this  digression— Dissentis  is  a  miser- 
able village,  of  one  narrow,  dirty  street,  but  looked 
down  upon  by  a  magnihcent  monastery,  which  is 
situated  upon'  a  hillock  close  by.     This  monastery 
was  some  time  ago  almost  entirely  destroyed  by  fire  ; 
but  it  is  partly  rebuilt,  and   1  believe  contains  a 
large  library  and  some  valuable  manuscripts,  which 
might  as  well  have  perished  in  the   tlames,  if  they 
are  to  remain  for  ever  buried  in  the   Benedictine 
abbey  of  Dissentis. 

After  having  ])assed  one  night  at  Dissentis,  I  left 
it  tolerably  early  next  morning  to  pass  the  moun- 
tains. My  course  from  Dissentis  lay  up  the  valley 
of  Tavetch,  wliich  is  the  last  valley  of  the  (Irisons, 
and  which  teniiinates  at  the  foot  of  the  highest 
ranges  of  Mount  Badus  and  the  C'rispalt.  If  it  be 
possible,  I  always  travel  without  a  guide  ;  but  this 
incumbrance  is  sometimes  indispensable  ;  and  so 
I  found  it  in  passing  from  the  country  of  the  Gri- 
soiis  to  the  Canton  of  Uri. 

In  leaving  Dissentis,  I  found  by  the  way-side 
abundance  of  sweetbriar,  sweetmarjoram,  and 
sweetwilliam,  which  ensured  me  a  pleasant  nosegay 
for  my  journey.  The  road — only  a  horse-road — 
winds  round  the  mountain  sides,  showing,  very  far 


beneath,  the  deep  ravine  that  contains  the  Rhine. 
All  the  way  to  Ciamut  the  road  is  liighly  interest- 
ing. It  ascends  continually,  always  keeping  above 
the  deep  bed  of  the  river,  and  every  moment  open- 
ing up  new  and  striking  views  into  the  heart  of  the 
majestic  mountains  that  separate  the  Italian  fron- 
tier from  the  (rrisons. 

Ciamut  lies  al)out  two  leagues  and  a  half  up  the 
mountains  from  Dissentis.  Its  height  above  the 
level  of  the  sea  is  stated  to  be  upwards  of  5000 
feet ;  and,  at  such  an  elevation,  it  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  say,  that,  excepting  a  little  rye,  no  grain  is 
cultivated.  The  village  is  a  congregation  of  scat- 
tered houses,  for  the  most  part  miserable  enough  ; 
and  a  church,  dedicated  to  the  Romish  worship, 
overlooks  them.  I  saw  the  cur(;  walking  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  could  not  help  pitying  the  man 
of  education  condemned  to  so  cheerless  a  life. 

From  Ciamut  there  is  only  a  track,  which  leads 
from  one  platform  to  another,  higluT  and  higher 
up. 


most  wretched  abodes    1   had  seen  in  any  part  oi    j 
Switzerland.     The  houses  were  mere  hovels,  black 
with  smoke,  and  exposed  on  all  sides  to  the  bitter 
winds  that  belong  to  the   neigliVxiurhood  of  eternal 
snow.     The  few   inhabitants    1   saw  scarcely  wore 
the  aspect  of  human  beings;  they   were  covered 
with  filth  and  rags,  and  showed,  in  their  counte- 
nances, the  i>overty— the  hopeless  jKJverty  that  was 
their  lot.     Wretched,  indeed,  is   the  lot  of  soine  ! 
What  a  contrast  is  exhibited  between  the  condition 
of  an  inhabitant  of  one  of  these  hamUts,  spending 
his  days  in  that  desolate  valley,  shut  out  from  every 
one  comfort,  his  intell.'ct  fruitless  in  enjoyment,  his 
nourishment,  day  after  day,  goats'  milk   and  the 
coarsest  bread  ;  and  the  condition  of  him  who  can 
command,  in  the  heart  of  a  civilized  country,  every 
enjoyment  that  a  cultivated  intellect  can  demand, 
and 'every   luxury  that  the   body  can   desire!     To 
the  selfish  man,  a  contemplation  like  this  is  pli-a- 
sant ;  to  the  philanthropist,  it  is  painful.     For  my 
own  i)art,  1  fear  1  am  more  inclined  to  indulge  in 
self-congratulation,  than  to  commiserate  the  con- 
dition of  my  less  fortunate  brethren. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  last  of  these  handets,  and 
after  an  ascent  of  al)out  an  hour,  1  found  mysi-lf  in 
the  highest  reach  of  the  valley  of  Tavetch.    It  was  a 
greei^'^ciuiet,  narrow  valley,  in  the  centre  of  which 
flowed  the  Rhine,  now  shrunk  to  the  dimensions  of 
a  rivulet  ten  yards  across.     The  sides  of  the  valley 
are  the  flanks  of  lofty  mountains,  but  the  bed  of  the 
stream  is  not  deep.*    Here  and  there  it  forms  a 
cascade  ;  and  between  these,  it  may  be  said  almost 
to  meander  through   this  alpine   valley,   which   is 
about    two    leagues    in    length,   and    nearly    level. 
About   half-wav  up   this  valley,  a  stream,  flowing 
from  the  right,'joiiis  that  which  flows  through  the 
valley.     This  ctunes  from  the  Crispalt,  and  is  con- 
sidered t(»   be  one  of  the  anterior  sources  of  the 
Rhine.     The  other  branch,  however,  which  flows 
down  the  valley,  is  the  larger  ;  and  as  its  coui^se  is  said 
to  be  longer,  it  may  pi-rhaps  be  considi-red  the  prm- 
cii)al  of  the  two  anterior  sources  of  the  river.     Near 
the  head  of  the  valh^y,  which   is  now  but  a  ravhie, 
I  found  this  branch  again  divide  into  two  ;  and  the 
stream  which  flowed  from  the  left,  tumbling  down 
the  mountain  side— a  part  of  Mount  Badus— the 
guide  pointed  out  as  the  Rhine.    The  other  or  lesser 
branch  was  nameless.     But,  after  all,  are  not  the 
sources  of  rivei-s  conventional  I     Who  can  pretend 
to  determine  which  are  the  sources  of  the   Rhine, 
or  what  branches  of  the  same   stream  are  entitled 
to  bear  its  name  \     In  passhig  up  the  valley  of  Ta- 
vetch, several  fine  streams  contribute  their  watei-s 
to  the   Rhine,  and  yet  are  denied   its  name  ;  and 
at  the  point  at  which  1  had  now  arrived,  where  one 
branch  Hows  from  the  left,  and   where  the  other 
comes  from   the  direction  in  which  the  nuiin  body 
of  the   river  afterwards  flows,  the  former  is  called 
the  Rhine,  and  the  latter,  whose  course  is  (luite  as 
long,  is  a  nameless  mountain  rivulet.     The  reason 
of  tills  distinction  I  think  I  can  account  for.     I  fol- 
lowed the  branch  coming  from  the  left  to  its  source. 
During  about  an  hour,  I  mounted  the  steep  ravine 
or  gorge  in  which  it  flows,  and  then  reaclu'd  a  [)lain 
of  some  extent   near  the  summit  of  Mount  Badus. 
In  this  plain  I  found  a  lake  from  which  the  stream 
i-ssues.     This  is  a  definite  and  single  source.      It  is 
true,  that  this  lake  seemed  to  have  many  feeders, 
which    I    saw  farther  back— mere  threads  of  foam 


AnJ;":™  I  stm  Ibuud  T^:  CZu:^;^^     ,„,„■..,  W,  tl,e  ,laci..rs,  euC,  „f  which  contribute.. 


to  form  a  source  of  the  Rhine ;  but  the  lake,  and 
the  one  stream  that  flows  out  of  it,  form  a  defined 
source  ;  and,  therefore,  this  branch  enjoys  the  repu- 
tation of  being  the  principal  of  the  two  anterior 
sources  of  that  river.  The  same  distinction  is  de- 
nied to  the  other  branch,  which  I  have  .spoken  of 
as  a  nameless  rivulet,  because  it  has  no  defined 
source.  Such,  at  least,  is  the  only  ex])lanation  I  am 
able  to  give.  My  ])ath  acro.ss  the  mountain  led  me 
u|>  the  side  of  this  latter  stream,  and  1  found  it  im- 
possible to  assign  to  it  any  definite  source.  It  is 
formed  by  innumerable  minute  rills,  and  small 
springs  that  rise  on  every  side  as  you  ascend,  im- 
percej)til)ly  swelling  the  main  stream  ;  and  at  length 
you  entirely  lose  it  in  the  boggy  ground  that  forms 
the  iijiper  |)art  of  the  pass.  I  was  now  above  the 
sources  of  the  Rhine,  and,  looking  back,  I  saw  it 
beneath  me,  setting  out  on  its  long  journey.  Before 
me  was  the  more  imposing  source  of  another, 
though  a  less  celebrated  river,  the  Reuss.  The 
scenery  here  is  of  the  most  majestic  character. 
The  snowy  summits  of  Badus  and  the  Crispalt  rise 
on  every  side  ;  behind,  stretches  downward,  in  long 
windings,  the  vallev  of  Tavetch,  carrying  the  Rhine 
in  its  bosom,  and  losing  itself  in  the  dark  forests 
that  stretch  over  the  lower  part  of  the  mountains. 
In  front,  dark,  deep,  and  calm,  lies  the  lake  of  the 
Oberalp,  the  largest  of  all  the  Upper  Alpine  lakes — 
surmounted  by  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Badus  and 
the  Crispalt.  At  this  place,  the  ])ath  became  diffi- 
cult and  even  dangerous.  There  was,  in  fact,  no 
marked  path.  A  considerable  quantity  of  snow 
was  accumulated  in  many  places,  and  beneath,  it 
was  entii'ely  excavated  by  streams.  After  passing 
these  snow  heaps  without  any  accident,  a  still 
greater  difficulty  arose.  A  formidable  bog  lay  be- 
tween us  and  the  lake,  stretching  along  its  head, 
ami  traversed  by  several  deej)  streams  which 
strayed  leisurely  through  it.  My  guide  was  evi- 
dently at  a  loss.  The  ])ath,  he  said,  was  never  the 
same  two  consecutive  summers ;  and  this  summer 
no  one  had  yet  crossed.  The  greatest  caution  was 
necessary  in  making  every  step  ;  and  we  were  fre- 
quently obliged  to  w  ithdraw  our  feet,  which,  by  a 
very  slight  pressure,  had  sunk  to  a  considerable 
depth.  Contrary  to  the  usual  practice,  I  left  my 
guide.  In  one  direction  the  bog  seemed  less  for- 
midable ;  but  a  deep  and  tolerably  broad  stream 
must  be  passed.  The  guide,  however,  assuring  me, 
that  if  I  could  reach  the  lake  1  should  find  a  fine 
gravelly  bottom,  I  attempted  this,  and  succeeded 
in  lea[)ing  over  the  stream,  from  which  I  soon 
reached  the  lake,  and  found  that  the  guide  had 
spoken  truly.  I  therefore  walked  in  the  water  all 
the  way  round  the  head  of  the  lake,  till  1  got  en- 
tirely clear  of  the  bog,  and  found  a  firm  footing  the 
w  hole  distance,  at  the  depth  of  from  two  to  three  feet 
of  water.  As  for  the  guide,  he  was  more  than  an  hour 
before  he  came  uj)  w  ith  me.  Not  thinking  it  prudent 
to  attempt  leaping  the  stream,  he  had  endeavoured 
to  pick  his  steps  across  the  bog  ;  but  found  this 
impracticable,  and  was  obliged  at  last  to  follow  my 
example,  though  w  ith  not  quite  the  same  success  ; 
for  he  was  not  able  entirely  to  clear  the  stream, 
and  scrambled  out  with  some  difficulty.  There  is 
scarcely  any  kind  of  danger  that  I  would  not  more 
readily  encounter  than  the  danger  of  a  bog  :  it  is  of 
a  hidden  kind,  and  human  coui'age  and  human  effort 
are  alike  impotent  to  save.  1  readily  admit  that 
niy  sensations  w  ere  agreeable,  when,  seating  myself 


upon  a  stone  upon  the  mountain  side,  I  looked  back, 
and  saw  the  bog  behind  me.  It  is  a  pleasant  feel- 
ing, too,  that  which  we  experience  in  reaching  the 
highest  part  of  a  pass,  and  in  looking  at  the  moun- 
tains opening  below  ;  but  being  entirely  soaked  by 
walking  through  the  lake,  I  hastened  forward  as 
fast  as  the  nature  of  the  path  would  allow.  This, 
however,  was  slow  enough.  All  the  way  along  the 
side  of  the  lake,  a  distance,  I  should  think,  of  at 
least  a  league,  the  banks  rise  very  precipitously, 
covered  with  rocks  and  stones,  beautiful  to  look  at, 
from  the  scarlet  blossoms  of  the  rhododendron 
which  every  where  abound,  but  extremely  difficult 
to  pass  over  ;  and  I  hailed  with  pleasure  my  arrival 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  lake,  where  a  small  grassy 
plain  stretched  into  the  valley  that  leads  down  to 
the  Canton  of  Uri. 

The  descent  into  the  Canton  of  Uri  is  less  inter- 
esting than  the  ascent  from  the  Grisons.  The 
valleys  are  indeed  green  and  beautiful  ;  but  there 
are  no  sublime  prospects  ;  and  you  never  get  so  low 
as  the  region  of  wood.  The  branch  of  the  Reuss, 
which  flows  from  the  lake  of  the  Oberalp,  is  your 
companion  all  the  way,  flowing  in  a  succession  of 
rapids  into  the  valley  of  Ursern,  where  it  is  joined 
by  the  other  branches,  afterwards  flowing  in  one 
stream  down  the  vallev  which  bears  its  own  name — 
the  vallev  of  the  Reuss. 

The  Reuss  is  a  remarkable  river  on  several  ac- 
counts ;  not  from  the  length  of  its  course,  nor  from 
the  volume  of  its  waters  ;  in  both  of  these  it  is  insig- 
nificant in  comparision  with  the  Rhine,  the  Rhone, 
and  perhaps  even  the  Aar  ;  but  from  its  extraordi- 
nary rapidity — far  exceeding  that  of  the  Rhone — 
and  from  the  magnificent  scenery  which  is  found 
upon  its  banks.  The  whole  course  of  the  river, 
from  the  vale  of  Ursern  till  it  falls  into  the  lake  of 
Lucerne,  is  a  succession  of  cataracts  ;  and,  in  the 
short  space  of  four  leagues,  its  inclination  is  no  less 
than  2500  feet.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  antici- 
pate, as  I  purpose  descending  the  valley  of  the 
Reuss. 

The  first  view  that  opened  before  me  into  the 
valley  of  Ursern,  particularly  pleased  me.  You  un- 
expectedly reach  a  platform,  and  the  whole  vale  lies 
smiling  at  your  feet.  Its  beauty  is  of  a  quiet  and 
modest  kind.  It  is  not  like  the  richer  valleys,  di- 
vei-sified  with  corn-fields  and  gardens,  and  with  all 
the  variety  of  fruit  and  forest-trees.  It  has  none 
of  tliese  attractions  ;  its  robe  is  all  green,  the  fresh- 
est green  in  the  world.  There  it  lies,  environed 
by  eternal  snows,  a  beautiful  image  of  spring  in  the 
bosom  of  winter.  I  hastened  to  reach  it  ;  and  after 
about  two  hours  of  very  rapid  descent,  I  walked 
into  the  village  of  Andermatt,  where  there  is  one  of 
the  best  inns  in  Switzerland. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  CANTON  OF  URI THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  REUSS. 

Andermatt,  and  the  Valley  of  Ursern— Rural  Economy — 
Descent  of  the  Valley  of  the  Reuss — The  Devil's  Bridge- 
Neglected  state  of  Agriculture,  and  the  causes  of  it — 
Scenery  of  the  Valley — Altorf,  and  its  connexion  with 
William  Tell— Fluelen,  and  the  Lake  of  Uri— An  Evening 
on  the  Lake— Tell's  Chapel— Character  of  the  Lake  of  Uri 
— Comparison  between  the  Lakes  of  Switzerland  and  Swiss 
Scenery,  with  the  Scenery  of  the  Scotch  and  English 
Lakes. 

Andermatt  is  the  largest  of  the  four  villages  which 


hN 


U'J 


URI. 


[CHAI'.   XI. 


sprinkle  the  little  vale  of  Urscrn.      It  lies  abmit 
4500  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea  ;  and,  with  the 
exeei.tion  of  a  small  plantation  of  old  ash  trees  no 
wood  of  any  kind   is  to  be  seen.      But  I  reeoUect 
An<lonnatt   with   pU>asure  ;  whether  beeause  it  is 
really  deservin-  of  pleasant  reeolleetu.ns,  or  be- 
cause, after  the  wretehed  inns  of  the  (.nsons,  the 
inn  at  Andeniiatt  seemed  a  paradise,  1  am  searee  y 
Hble  to  tell.      Before   niu;htlall,  I   had  tune  to  walk 
as  far  as   Hospital,  an<l  to  enjoy  the   stillness  and 
irreen  beautv  of  the  valley  :  an<l  before   1  returnee 
to  Andermatt,  the  boundrd  horizon  oi  the  vale  ot 
Ui-sern  was  li<,'hted  up  with  stai-s.   In  lormer  tunes, 
this  vallev  formed  a  rei)ublie  in  itsi-lf,  and  was  go- 
verned bv  separate  laws  ;  now  it  is  mer-ed   in  the 
Canton  of  Uri,  and  is  governed  by  its  laws.      1  he 
whole  inhabitantsof  the  valley  amount  to  about  1400. 
Thev  -'enerallv  live  upon  the  prodiun-  of  their  own 
possVs'sions  ;  but  tliese  are  small,  sutheing  only  for 
the  seantv  support  of  their  families.      It  is  a   pitv 
that  the  (-heese  whieh  is  made  in  this  valley  should 
be  too  delicate   for  exportation.      It  is  truly  deli- 
cious, and  would  bear  a  very  high  price,  w.'re   it 
found  in  the  French,  or  even  in  the  princi[)al  Swiss 
markets.     Andermatt,  which  in  most  oi   the  ()ther 
cantons  would  be  but  a  very  inconsiderable  viUag.', 
is  a  place  of  some  coiiseiiuence  in  the  little  Canton 
of  Uri,  which,  indeed,  can  boast  of  only  one  town, 
Altorf.     The  whole  Canton  of  Uri  may  be  said   to 
be  comprised  in  one  valley,  the  valley  of  the  Heiiss, 
bavin.'  the  little  plain  of  Urserii  for  its  head,  and  the 
lower  "end  expanding  into  aiK.ther  little   plain   be- 
tween Altorf  and  the  lake  of  Uri.      It  is  said  of  the 
Canton  of  Uri,  that  the  inhabitants  and  tiie  horned 
cattle  are  about  e<iual  in  number,  each   amounting 
to  about  11,000.     If  this  saying  be  true, and  I  have 
reason  to  think  it  does  not  greatly  err,  it  sulHcienty 
indicates  the  povertv  of  the  inhabitants,  whose  sole 
wealth  is  their  cattle.     The  Canton  of  Uri  recog- 
nises no  hereditarv  ])rivileges.    A  general  assembly 
of  all  citizens  arrivi-d  at  the  age  of  twenty,  exercises 
the    supreme    power,   and    appoints    the    diHereiit 
councils.     It  is  a  i)urelv  catholic  canton,  dc>i.endent 
upon  the  bishop  of  Chur  ;  and  all  the  schools  are 
under  the  management  of  the  priests. 

The  well-known  and  much-visited  Devil's  Bridge 
is  only  about  half  a  league  from  Andermatt.    Every 
mountainous    country    has   one   or    more     Devils 
bridges.      Whenever   there  is  a  bridge  with   any 
thing  terrific  about  it,  it  receives  from  the  natives 
of  the   neighbourhoiul   the   appellation   of   Devil\s 
Brid"e.   Wales  and  Scotland  have  both  their  Devil's 
bridges ;  and  in  Switzerland  then'  is  one  in  several 
of  tlfe  cantons.      But  the  Devil's   Bridge, /'^(r  t'jw/- 
A'«(v,  is  undoubtedly  that  over  the   Ueuss.      I  con- 
fess it  somewhat  ilisappointed  me  ;  and  yet  I    can 
scarcelv  tell  why.     1  believe   I  expected  that   the 
hei'dit  of  the  bridge  above  the  river   would  have 
been  much   greater.      But   the   chief  claim  of  this 
bridge  to  the  distinguished  rank  it  holds,  does  not 
depc^id  upon  its  elevation— for  I'antenbruck  in  Gla- 
rus,  and  several  other  bridges,  are  greatly  more 
distinguished    in   this  resiuct     but   n]nm   the   tre- 
mendCus    torrent   that  rushes    through    the   gorge 
above,  and  forms  first  a  fall,  and  then  a  tine  rapid, 
underneath  the  arch.      It   is  not   unlikely  that  the 
improvements  then  going  on  in  the  neighbourhood, 
may  in  some  de<4ree  have  weakened  the  impression 
which  might  otherwise  have  been  i)roduced.   A  new 
and  very  substantial  bridge,  in  which  the  devil  can- 


not claim  anv  share,  is  erecting  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  old  one  ;  and  when    I    reached  the   spot,  1 
found  twentv  or  thirtv  workmen  busily  employed  in 
its  construction.    I  feel  well  convinced,  that  the  im- 
pression made  upon  the  mind  under  circumstances 
like  these,  must  be  feeble  in  comi)anson  with  the 
impression  that  nsouUI  have  been  made  upon  it  had 
1  travelled  this  country  a  few  years  earlier,  wluii 
the  old  arch  spanned  the  torrent,  and  when  the  tra- 
veller might  have  been  alone  with  nature,  m  place 
of  in  tht>  midst  of  human  labour,  and  when  the  only 
voice  heard  would  have   been  the  voice  of  the  ca- 
taract.    I  readilv  admit,   howevi-r,  that  the  work 
going  on  is  a  most  important   one.     There  is  not 
onlv  a  new  bridi^'e  erecting,  but  a  new  road   down 
the  whole  vallev  of  the    Ueuss  is  already  lar  ad- 
vanced.    It  is  constructed  upon  the  very  best  sys- 
tem of  road-makini;.     It  is  safe  and  broad  ;  and 
although  the  inclination  of  the  valley  is  an  inch  and 
a  half  111  the  yard,  a  carriage  may  be  drawn  at  a  lull 
trot  the  whole  way  down. 

In  walking  from  Andermatt  down  the  valley,  1 
met  several  small  carts  laden  with   sacks  of  Hour, 
for  the  use  of  the  inhabitants  of  Ursern,  and  ot  the 
upper  ])art  of  the  valley.    I  also  met  at  least  twenty 
women  carrving  up  potatoes  and   other  vegetables. 
Throughout*  the  whole  of  the  upper  part   of   the 
vallev  of  the   Reuss,  and  in  the  vale  of  Ursern,  not 
one  stalk  of  anv  kind  of  grain,  nor  one  vegetable 
of  anv  kind  is  to  be  seen.     There  is  no  doubt,  how- 
ever,' that  these  might  be  successfully  cultivated. 
The  vale  of  Ursern  produces  most  excellent  i)a.sture, 
and   is  admitted  to  posst-ss  a  gooil  soil.     It  is  far 
more  sheltered  than  almost  any  part  of  the  Knga- 
dine  ;  and  although  more  elevated  than  some  ]>arts 
of  it,  it  is  less  elevatetl  than  many  other  parts  where 
rve  is  grown  abundantlv,  xNhere  ..tlier  gram— even 
wheat— is  not  a  failure,  and  wher(>  all  the  hardier 
vegetables  are  plentiful.      But  the  land  throughout 
all  the  upi>er  part  of  the  valley  of  the  Reuss,  and  in 
the  lower  part  of  Ursern,  is   greatly  neglected       1 
am  convinced  that  grain   of  one  kind  and  another, 
and  the  hardy  vegetables,  might  be  cultivated  in 
sutlicient   (juantities    to    supply   the    wants    of   the 
valley  ;  but  the  inhabitants  sei-m  to  be  contented 
with*p'»vertv,  and  leave  the  soil  to  nature. 

I   have  fre<|ueiitly  observed,  that   in  all  places 
where  there  is  a  great   influx  of  strangers,   the  in- 
habitants are  idle,  and   coiisc-(iuently  poor.     They 
trust  to  casualties  ;  and   hnd  it  easier  to  pick  up  a 
living  bv  the  wants,  and  partly  by  the  bounty   of 
travelers,  than  to  labour  the  ground.     This  is  ob- 
servable in  \cr\  many   parts  of  Switzerland,  and 
mi-ht  no  doubt  be  retnarked  in  other  countries  also. 
There  are  few  i)arts  of  Switzerland  more  visited 
than  the  Devil's   Bridg<>,  Ursern,  and   Mount   St. 
(iothard  ;  and  in  few  places  are  the  efl'ects  of  this 
more  visible  in  the  impeitVct  cultivation  of  the  soil, 
an.l  in  the  state  of  the  inhabitants.     If  Ui-sern  and 
the  valley  of  the  Reuss  were,  like  the    ICngadme, 
shut  out  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  the  result  w..uld 
be  different.      It  is  then  that   the   inhabitants  are 
forced  upi.n  their  resources,  and  these  are  found  in 
the  exercise  of  their  industry. 

No  one  can  be  otherwi>e  than  diarmed  with  the 
scenerv,  in  descending  the  valley  of  the  Reuss. 
From 'the  Devil's  Bridge,  during  at  least  two 
leagues,  the  banks  form  a  succession  of  tremendous 
prix'ipices,  and  the  river  is  itself  ono  contmued 
rai)id. 


I  was  now  on  one  of  the  great  Swiss  high- 


CHAP.  XI.] 


URI. 


33 


ways  ;  and,  accordingly,  J  met  tourists  at  every 
town,  chiefly  Flnglish  or  German.  After  the  Eng- 
lish, the  Germans  and  Russians  travel  the  mast  ; 
the  French  the  least  of  all  nations.  They  think  too' 
highly  of  their  own  country  to  go  into  others  in  re- 
quest of  either  pleasure  or  profit.  It  is  only  men 
of  science  who  travel  ;  and  tlie  consequence  of 
tliis  is,  that  abroad  the  French  have  acquired, 
and  probably  with  justice,  tlie  character  of  being' 
more  in(|uiring  than  the  natives  of  any  other 
country. 

About  two  leagues  lower  down  than  Andermatt, 
I  fouiKl  the  valley  widen.  It  was  no  longer  a  gorge, 
but  deserved  the  name  by  which  it  is  known— tlie' 
valley  of  the  Reuss.  The  scenery,  too,  had  some- 
what changed  its  character.  The  rocks  that 
bounded  the  valley  were  somewhat  less  precipitous, 
and  were  no  longer  entiivly  naked  ;  and  mingled' 
with  the  firs  that  fringed  the  river  side  were  some 
walnut-trees.  Cottages,  too,  were  sprinkled  here 
and  there,  and  now  and  then  a  hamlet  ;  still,  how- 
ever, grass  only  wa.s  to  be  seen.  I  saw  many  warm 
stripes,  and  even  little  plains,  along  the  river  side, 
where  wheat  and  vegetables  could  have  been  suc- 
cessfully cultivated  ;  but  I  still  continued  to  meet 
carts  laden  with  flour  and  potatoes. 

Pa^ssing  through  a  little  village,  about  nine  in  the 
morning,  I  met  upwards  of  a  hundred  persons  re- 
turning from  i)rayers,  all   in  their  holidav  clothes. 
This  was  no  holiday  ;  but  the  daily  custom  here, 
and  m  many  other  of  the  catholic  jurisdictions,  is 
to  spend  the  morning  from  six  to  eight  in  church. 
I  should  be  sorry  to  say  a  word  against  the  habit  of 
daily  devotion,  or  to  speak  with  levity  of  the   duty 
incumbent  upon  all,  to  return  thanks  to  God  for  the 
^   light  of  another  morning  ;  nor  will  I  even  venture  to 
say  to  those  who  profess  a  creed  differing  from  mine 
that  a  prayer  in  the  clo.set,  and  of  greater  brevity' 
might  be  as  pleasing  to  the   Deitv ;   but  I  may,' 
nevertheless,  in  mentioning  a  fact,  state  what  seem 
to  be  Its  results  ;  and  I  think  it  cannot  be  doubted, 
that  a  neglected  soil,  and  imperfect  cultivation,  are 
occasioned   by  tlie   many  hours  daily    devoted  to 
prayer  and  ceremonial,  even  more  thaji  by  the  too 
frecjuent  recurrence  of  jours  (fe  ftte.     The'strict  ca- 
tholic, who  happens  to  reside  withhi  a  jurisdiction 
where  great  encouragement  is  given  to  the  frequency 
and  prolongation  of  prayers  and  ceremonials,  spends 
in  church  those  morning  hours  which  an  Eno-Iish 
labourer  spends  in  the  fields     The  former  dresses 
in  the  morning  in  his  holidav  clothes,  and  throws 
them  off  when  he  returns  ;  the  latter  dresses  in 
the  morning  for  the  whole  day,  and  loses  no  time  in 
dressing  and  undressing.     Nor  is  it  only  the  morn- 
ing hours  that  are  lost  to  labour.     At  two  in  the 
afternoon,  the  strict  catholic  of  Uri  and  elsewliere 
must  again  throw  off  his  labourer's  apparel,  put  on 
Ins  best  clothes,  and  repair  to  church.     I  do  trust 
the  reader  will  not  suppose  for  a  moment,  that  1 
nitend  to  pass  any  censure  upon  those  who  thus 
occupy  their  hours  in  prayer  ;  nor  even  upon  those 
•y  whose  counsel  they  are  directed.     All  this  may 
he  considered   by  them  essential  to  salvation  ;  but 
*'aii  It  be  for  a  moment  denied,  that  most  hnportant 
results  are  thus  produced  upon  the  agriculture  of  a 
country  ?  Ask  an  English  farmer  what  would  be  the 
Htect,  if  a  law  were  passed  by  whicli  all  labour  were 
'')r!.idden  between  the  hours  of  six  and  eight  in  tlie 
in<a-mng,  and  between  two  and  four  in  the  after- 
noon ;  and  I  believe  his  answer  would  be,  that  if 


he  continued  to  pay  the  same  rent,  taxes,  and 
wages,  he  should  speedily  be  ruined. 

As  1   descended  still  lower  in   the   valley,  the 
scenery  became  more  varied  and  more  beautiful. 
Charming  meadows  lay  by  the  river  side,  prettily 
diversified  by  clumps   of  walnut   and   pear-trees, 
which  entii-ely  fringed  both  sides  of  the  river.    The 
cottages  and   liamlets  thickly   dotted    the    slopes, 
standing  generally  upon  those  Uttle  eminences  which 
were  above  the  reach  of  tlie  winter  floods,  and  in 
part  also  secure  against  the  descent  of  stones,  and 
the  avalanche  of  snow  ;    and  here,  although   the 
Reuss  had  escaped  from  the  rocky   defiles   that 
higher  up  forced  it  into  rapids  and  cataracts,  it  still 
retained  the  interest  and  character  of  a  mountain 
river.     Still   it  ran   a  joyous  course,   leaping  and 
noting  along,  and  occasionally  broke  into  little  cas- 
cades, as  if  just  to  remind  one  of  the  feats  it  had 
already  accomplished. 

I  was  much  pleased  with  Altorf.  It  is  clean, 
beautifully  situated,  and  suri-ounded  by  gardens  and 
orchards.  Yet,  even  here,  where  tlie  climate  is 
mild,  and  where  the  ordinary  fruits  come  to  great 
perfection,  scarcely  an  ear  of  grain  is  to  be  seen. 
Altorf  is  closely  connected  with  the  history  of  Wil- 
ham  Tell.  He  was  born  m  the  little  village  of  Bur- 
glen,  close  by  ;  and  it  is  here  that  the  scene,  so  well 
known  as  the  origin  of  Swiss  libertv,  took  place, 
when  TeU  was  required  to  strike  off  the  apple  from 
the  head  of  his  child.  An  old  tower  was  shown  to 
me,  as  hidicating  the  spot  formerly  occupied  by  the 
linden-tree,  beneath  which  the  child  was  placed. 
This  may  be  ti-ue,  or  it  may  not  ;  but  I  should 
rather  think  the  tower  is  of  an  origin  anterior  to  the 
history  of  William  Tell. 

I  did  not  remain  long  at  Altorf,  but  walked  for- 
ward to  Fluelen,  where  I  mtended  remaining  till 
next  moraing.     It  is  a  mere  village,  but  is  of  some 
httle  importance  as  being  the  place  of  embarkation 
for  Lucerne.     Here  the  lake  of  Lucerne  is  seen  for 
the  first  time,  and  at  no  point  can  it  be  seen  to 
greater  advantage.     It  happened  to  be  one  of  those 
dehcious  evenings  that  lend  a  charm  to  any  scenery. 
The  most  barren  heath  would  have  smiled  beneath 
Its  mellow  light.     But  the  lake  of  Uri,  confessedly 
one  of  the  most  magnificent  scenes  in  Switzerland, 
was  spread  out  before  me  ;  and  I  felt  myself  quite 
justified  in  refusing  the  invitation  of  a  large  party 
of  travellers  to  join  them  in  a  late  dinner.     I  hired 
the  smallest  boat  I  could  find,  and  coasted  up  the 
lake ;  and  in  about  an  hour  I  found  myself  opposite 
to  a  chapel,  erected  upon  a  httle  elevated  rock, 
gaudily  painted,  and  not  at  all  harmonizing  with  the 
wild  scenery  around.     The  history  of  the  chapel  is 
this  :— William  Tell  was  taken  prisoner  at  Altorf, 
and  was  to   be   conveyed  to  Kuznach.     For  this 
purpose,  he  was  put  into  a  boat  at  Fluelen,  and  the 
boat  set  sail  ;  but  one  of  those  sudden  and  violent 
stoiTOs  to  which  the  lake  is  so  subject  having  arisen, 
the  boat  was  dinven  close  to  the  shore.     Tell,  who 
is  well  known  to  have  been  a  powerful  man,  saw 
his  opportunity,  and  availed  himself  of  it.     He  sud- 
denly shook  himself  free  from  his  bonds,  and  leaped 
on  shore  ;  and  it  is  upon  the  spot  where  this  was 
accomplished,  that  the  chapel  is  erected,  because 
it  was  owing  to  this  the  enemy  of  Swiss  liberty  was 
destroyed.    Tell,  who  knew  all  the  mountain-passes, 
fled  over  to  Kuznach,  and  there  killed  the  tyrant. 

However  little  in  harmony  with  the  scenery  the 
chapel  and  its  decorations  may  be,  it  is  delightfully 


D 


«  ! 


:i4 


URL 


[chap.  XI. 


;   I 


li'  f 


H    >. 


situated  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  surroun.l.ntr  v,.-w<^. 
I  moored  mv  boat  beueatii,  and  s^ac  Ion-  withm  tlie 
luilluwed  invoinct,  lookmg  over  the  lake,  ami  across 
to  the  -reat  mountains  that  bounded  it.      1  saw  the 
last  smibeam  depart  from  the  face  of  the   waters  ; 
and  I  saw  the  shadows  -niduaily  creej^  u})  the  moun- 
tain-side, till  the  bright  hues  of  evenmg   now  tor- 
sakinir  one  ravine,  now  another— now  leavmg  the 
cottage,  and  then  the  chalet— crimsoned  only  the 
snowVaks  with  their  dyin-  lustre.     All  was  gay  as 
1   coasted  back   to    Fluelen  ;  but   the   dnnness   ot 
evenhig  accords  well  with  the  gloomy  character  ot 
the  scenery  of  Uri.     With  corn-fields  and  pleasant 
pasture,  and  sprinkled  cottages,  we  look  for  the  har- 
monv  of  li-ht  and  sunbeams  ;  but  with  gnm  rocks, 
and  deep  waters,  and  dark  woods,  we  feel  that  the 
<'lare  of  light  is  offensive.     Sunbeams  have  no  busi- 
ness there.     A  cloudy  sky,  or  the  dhn  evening,  are 
tlie  best  act'ompaniments  of  the  subhme. 

Next  monung  1   left   Fluelen  ;  and  with  a  fine 
breeze  from  the  south,  and  a  well-filled  sail,  I  soon 
passed  the  chapel,  and  approached  the  head  of  the 
fii-st  reach  of  the  lake.     Nothing  can  be  finer  than 
the  view  back  into  the  lake  of  Uri.     The  situation 
of  this  lake  is  such,  that  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  a 
view  of  it  unless  fr<mi  the  water  ;  and  no  one  should 
visit  Lucerne,  without  sailing  to  Fluelen.     When  1 
speak  of  anv  of  tlu-  Swiss  lakes,  1  always  call  to  ima- 
gination thJ  lakes  of  my  own  country,  that  I  may,  if 
p«)ssible,  find  some  resemblance  ;  because  no  power 
of  descrii)tion,  even  if  possessed  in  a  tenfold  greater 
degree  than  any  that  I  am  able  to  exercise,  can  be 
so  satisfactory  to  the  reader,  or  convey  to  his  imnd 
so  distinct  an  image,  as  a  reference  to  something 
that  he  has  seen.     The  lake  of  Uri  bears  some  re- 
semblance to  the  upper  part  of  Ulleswater,  looking 
into  Patterdale.     No  doubt  the  scenery  of  the  lake 
of  Uri  is  greatly  more  majestic,  the  mountains  are 
greatly  Ingher,  and  the  rocks  far  more  elevated  and 
more  precipitous  ;  and  in  Ulleswater,  we  also  look  m 
vain  for  that  thick  clothing  of  wood,  which  in  many 
places  so  finely  covers  the  rocks  that  bound  the  lake 
of  Uri.  Still  there  is  a  resemblance,  which  I  believe 
no  one  who  has  seen  both  lakes  will  refuse  to  admit. 
I  have  freciuently  heard  the  observatii)n  made, 
that,  after  seeing  the  scenery  of  Switzerland,  one 
will  find  little  pleasure  in  travelling  through  the 
mountainous  districts  of  our  own  country.   1  entirely 
dissent  from  this  opinion,  not  only  because  1  thmk 
one  may  look  with  pleasure  upon  beauty  or  sub- 
limity of  an  inferior  order,  after  having  beheld  that 
which  far  eclipses  it,  but  because  the  scenery  of  our 
lakes  and  mountains  is  of  a  different  character.   The 
character  of  Winaiiderniere  is,  indeed,  the  same  a.s 
the   character   of  the   lake  of   Zurich,  which    far 
eclipses  it  in  splendour  ;  but  there    is  notliing  in 
Switzerland  that  resembles  either  Derwentwater  or 
Wastwater.     Let  it  be  recollected,  too,  that,  on  the 
bosom  of  a  lake,  the  horizon  is  extremely  bounded, 
and  that,  generally,  the  peaks  of  the  lofty  mountains 
retire  ;  and  it  will  not  seem  extraordinary  if  1  assert, 
that  the  scenery  around  one  of  our  English  lakes 
may  seem  as  majestic  as  that  which  surrounds  the 
lakes  of  Switzerland.  1  do  not  say  that  this  is  always 
the  case.     From  the  entrance  into  the  lake  of  Uri, 
a  multitude  of -snow-peaks  are  visible  ;  and  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  lake  of  Geneva  also,  the  tops  of 
the  highest  mountains  bound  the  horizon  ;  but  this 
is  far  from  being  invariably  U'ue  of  the  Swiss  lakes  ; 
and  at  all  events,  the  distinctive  character  of  Kes- 


wick  and  Wastwater  will  indemnify  the  traveller 
for  his  journey,  even   if  he  has  already  made  the 
tour  of  Switzerland,     ikit  the  Scc»tch  lakes  afford 
me  a  still  stronger  ar<,nnnent.     The  chamcter  of 
Loch-Lomond  is  entirely  distinct  from  that  of  any 
lake  in  Switzerland  ;  and  altogether,   I  think  it  is 
more  beautiful.     With  the  exception  of  the  lake  of 
Bienne,  none  of  the  Swiss  lakes  have  any  islands. 
This  is  a  serious  defect,  scarcely  compensated  by 
their  other  claims  to  superiority.     Let  any  one  wlio 
has  seen  the  lake  of  Zurich,  or  the  lake  of  Lucerne, 
figure  to  himself  the  effect  of  many  wooded  islands 
sprinkled  along  their  surface  :  whicheverof  tlieSwiss 
lakes  might  be  so  distinguished,  would  unquestion- 
ably possess  a  decided  superiority  over  all  the  rest ; 
and  if,  in  other  respects,  Loch- Lomond  approaches 
even  at  a  very  humble  distance,  the  charms  of  the 
Swiss  lakes,  the  numerous  and  beautiful  islands  by 
which  that  lake  is  adoraed,  will  entitle  it  to  a  rivalry 
with  the  most  beautiful  of  them. 

But  there  is  yet  another  reason  why  the  scenery 
of  the   British  mountain-districts  will  bear  an  in- 
spection, after  the  traveller  has  made  the  tour  of 
Switzerland.     Many  of  the  Swiss  lakes  lie  little  less 
than  2000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea  ;  and 
many  of  tlie  Alpine  valleys  are  double  that  eleva- 
tion.    On  the  other  hand,'  the  level  of  most  of  the 
British  lakes  exceeds,  but  by  a  few  hundred  feet, 
the  level   of  the  sea— indeed  some  of  the  Scotch 
lakes  are  arms  of  the  sea.    Now  the  effect  of  this  is 
obvious.      If  the  mountains,  or  rather  tlie  visible 
heights  surrounding  one  of  the  British  lakes,  be 
2(MH)  feet  lower  than  those  which  rise  alx)ve  the 
Swiss  lake,  the  sciMiery  of  the  one  will  seem  as  ma- 
jestic as  that  of  the  other  ;  and,  in  truth,  is  so.      It 
seldom  haj.pens  that  mountains,  rising  beyond  6000 
feet,  dip  into  any  of  the  Swiss  lakes.     This  is,  at  all 
events,  true  of  the  lakes  of  (Jeneva,  Zurich,  Neuf- 
chati'l,  Bienne,  and  perhaps  Brieiitz  and  Thun—- of 
all,  indeed,  excepthig  Lucerne  and  Zoug,   and  the 
Wallaiisee  ;  so  that  the  scenery  around  the  head  of 
Ulleswater,  Wastwater,  Loeh-Tay,  and  the  head  of 
Locli-Lt)mond,  is  nearly  upim  an  eiiuality  with  the 
sci-nery  surrounding  these  Swiss  lakes.     The  same 
reason' which  1  have  just  assigned,  as  entitling  me 
to  compare  the  lake-scenery  of  Britain  with  that  of 
Switzerland,  has  certainly  the  effect  of  disappoint- 
ing,  in  some  degree,  the  expectations  of  the  traveller 
in'Switzerland.    Bi'fore  travelling  into  Switzerland, 
we  hear  of  mountains  10,000,  12,000,  and  14,000 
feet  high  ;  and  we  fancy  Snowdon  with   two  other 
Snowdons  piled  upon   it,  and  imaghie  within  our- 
selves the  sublimity  of  such  a  scene.     But  this  we 
find  to  be  a  delusiim.     Before  reaching  the  kise  of 
any  of  the  great  mountains,  we  have  probably  at- 
tained an  elevation  of  4000  oroOOO  feet,  by  a  gradual 
ascent,  l)egun  at  Calais,  and  ending  perhaps  in  the 
valley  of  Grindelwald.      It  is   doubtful,  even  when 
we  have  reached  this  elevation,  if  we  are  able  to  see 
the  loftiest  summit  of  the  adjacent  mountains.    We 
probably  see  only  an  inferior  peak  or  fiank   of  the 
mountain  10,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 
so  that  we  are  then  looking  upon  a  mountain  50GO 
or  0000  feet  higher  than  the  point   upon  which  we 
stand— a  reality  very  ditt'erent  from  the  conception 
of  three  Snowdons  piled  upon  each  other.     Or  even 
supposing  that,  from  the  elevation  we  have  attained, 
we  should  be  able  to  discover  the  highest  peak,  it  Ls 
so  far  back,  so  distant,  and  so  surrounded  by  other 
peaks,  whose  greater  proximity  deceives  us  as  to  re- 


CHAP.  XII.] 


LUCERNE. 


35 


lative  elevation,  that  we  still  call  to  mind  the  ma- 
jestic image  we  had  conceived,  and  lament  to  find 
that  it  is  not  realised.  The  traveller,  who  contents 
liimself  witli  viewing  the  mountains  from  the  val- 
leys, cannot  feel  and  eomj)rehend  the  majesty  of 
Swiss  scenery.  He  must  leave  the  valleys  and  go 
into  the  mountains— fatigue,  cold,  storms,  glaciers 
precipices,  and  the  thunder  of  the  cataract  and' 
avalanche,  will  open  to  him  a  world  of  knowledo-e 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  for  ever  closed^  ' 


CHAPTER  XIL 

THE  CANTON,  LAKE,  AND  CITY  OF  LUCERNE. 

The  Lake  of  the  Four  Cantons— Historic  Recollections— 
Brunnen—Schwytz— Visit  to  the  Valley  of  Lauertz,  and 
the  Site  of  Goldau— The  Fall  of  the  Rossberg— Some  De- 
tails, and  ReflectionB— Return  to  Brunnen,  and  Voyage 
to  Lucerne— Gersau  and  its  History— The  Rigi— Lucerne 
—The  Situation  and  Environs  of  Lucerne— Markets  and 
Prices  of  Provisions-Bridges-Public  Seminaries-State 
of  Morals— The  Monument  in  Commemoration  of  the 
Swiss  Guards-Churches  and  Relics— Promenades— Stale 
of  the  Canton— Attempt  to  Ascend  Mount  Pilate. 

Let  me  return  to  the  Lake  of  Uri,  from  whose 
bosom  I  have  been  all  this  while  comparinrr  the 
scenery  of  the  Swiss  and  Britisli  Jakes.  " 

^    The  reader  probably  knows,  that  the  Lake  of  Uri 
IS  the  upper  reach  of  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  or  as  it 
is  called  m  German,  Waldstattersee.     It  also  bears 
the  name  of  the  Lake  of  the  Four  Cantons,  because 
Its  shores  belong  to  the  four  Cantons  of  Lucerne 
Unterwald,  Schwytz,  and  Uri.     Although  the  lake 
has  three  distinct  reaches— each  so  distinct  from 
the  other,  that  from  one  you  cannot  see  uito  the 
adjoining  reach— no  part  of  the  lake  bears  any  dis- 
tinct name    excepting  that  which   belongs  to   the 
Canton  of  Uri.     The  whole  of  the  Lake  of^  Lucerne 
IS  about  nine  leagues  long,  but  scarcely  in  any  part 
exceeds  a   league   in  breadth.     Its  depth  is  very 
various;  the  reach  which  touches  uj)on  Lucerne 
nowhere  exceeds  :iOO  fVet ;  the  middle  reach  is  in 
some  places  a  hundred  feet  deeper  ;  and  the  Lake 
of  L  ri  ranges  from  GOO  to  900  feet  in  depth      This 
IS  not  a  great  dei)th,  considering  the  height  of  the 
surrounding  mountains.      Several  of   the  En-lish 
lakes  are  considerably  deeper.   Lucerne  is  decid'^edly 
the  finest  of  the  Swiss  lakes  ;    its  three  reaches 
I'reseiit  every  variety  of  lake  scenery.     Beauty  is 
the  characteristic  of  the  lower  brancli,  which  is 
surrounded  by  country-houses,  and  orchards,  and 
wooded  knolls.     The  middle  branch  mav  be  siid  to 
l>o  picturesque,  though  still  there  is  mucli  beauty 
niingk-d   with  it ;  and  the  character  of  the  branch 
ot   Lri  IS  sublimity.      In  sailing  from  Altorf  to  Lu- 
cerne, a  perfect  conception  of  the  principal  varieties 
of  lake  scenery  is  obtained.     Lucerne  is  an  inter, 
t'^ting  lake  also,  from  the  historic  recollections  with 
Which  It  abounds  ;  for  the  establishment  of  Swiss 
independence  is  the  glory  of  its  banks.     There,  the 
l.^^amly  ot  its  Austrian  masters  first  begot  the  re- 
solution to  oppose  it;  there,  many  fierce  struggles 
or  freedom  took  place  ;  and  there,  were  performed 
the  valiant  deeds  of  the  patriot  Tell.     Much  is  said 
about  the  danger  of  the  navigation  of  the  Lake  of 
Lucerne  ;  but  I  could  not  learn  that  accidents  were 
rcjucnt.     It  is  generally  said,  that  the  banks  of 
tlie  Lake  of  Uri  are  so  preci])itous  that  a  boat  can 


nowhere  put  to  shore,  and,  consequently,  that  the 
danger  is  imminent,  should  a  storm  overtake  a  boat 
in  that  reach  ;  but  this  is  not  strictly  true.  The 
banks  are  indeed  precipitous,  and  in  many  places 
the  rocks  dip  perpendicularly  into  the  water ;  but 
thei-e  is  nowhere  so  great  a  cr.ntinuity  of  {)erpendi- 
cular  rock  as  to  render  a  lauding  iinpossible  ;  and 
where  rocks  seem  at  a  distance  to  be  perpendicular 
and  inaccessible,  you  often  find,  upon  approaching 
them,  that  a  footing  is  not  altogether  hopeless. 

I  had  engaged  tlie  boat  from  Fluelen,  not  to  take 
me  to  Lucerne,  but  to  the  little  village  of  Brunnen, 
which  lies  on  the  right  bank  of  the  lake  in  sailing 
upwards,  and  just  opposite  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Uri  branch.  It  was  not  for  the  purpose  of  seeing 
Brunnen  that  I  landed  there,  but  because  I  in- 
tended going  from  Brunnen  to  Schwytz,  and  to 
Goldau.  Even  in  this  little  village,  I  f<)und  an  inn 
which  brought  no  discredit  upon  the  character  of 
the  inns  of  Switzerland  ;  and,  after  an  excellent 
breakfast,  I  set  out  for  Schw^-tz. 

The  walk  between  Brunnen  and  Schwytz  is  sin- 
gularly beautiful.     At   Brunnen,  the  lake  recedes, 
and  the  shore,  no  longer  precipitous,  slopes  gently 
back  to  Schwytz,  covered  with  fertility,  and  full  of 
beauty.     This  is  the  finest  part  of  the  Canton  of 
Schwytz  ;  for  excepting  a  small  part  which  lies  to- 
wards the  Lake  of  Zurich,  it  is  covered  with  sterile 
mountains,  and  intersected  by  valleys,  by  no  means 
remarkable  for  their  fertility  ;  but  thereis  no  trace 
of  sterility  in  approaching  'Schwytz,  which  stands 
most  imposingly  upon  the  upper  part  of  the  slope — 
a  garden  around  it,  and  the  red  rocky  summit  of 
Mount  Mythen  towering  above  it.     Tin's  pyraraidi- 
cal  mount  presented  a  very  singular  appearance  as 
I  approached  Schwytz  ;  a'thick  mist  extended  lon- 
gitudinally along  the  sky,  cutting  this  mountain  in 
two ;  and  above  it,  as  if  floating  upon  the  sea  of 
vapour,   stood   the  red  peak   of   Mount   Mythen, 
bathed  in  sunbeams. 

I  found  nothing  to  detain  me  long  in  the  town  of 
Schwytz,  whose  chief  attraction  lies  in  the  singular 
beauty  of  its  situation  ;  but  as  it  was  then  too  warm 
t<)   continue   my  walk  to    Goldau,   I    remained   at 
Schwytz  till   dinner-time,  passing  the  interval  very 
uni)rofitably,  though  very  agreeably.      I  found  a 
sloping  orchard,  where   1  lay  dreaming  away  an 
hour  or  two :    a  very  large   pear-tree  spread  its 
shade  above  ;  and  1  had  only  to  walk  a  few  yards, 
if  I  wished  to  cool  my  lips  with  the  delicious' cher- 
ries that  coloured  one-half  of  the  orchard.     I  re- 
turned to  the  inn  at  half-past  one,  where  I  found  a 
most  admirable  dinner,  and  two   agreeable  com- 
panions.     It  may  not  be  a   piece  of  information 
altogether  useless,  if  I  tell  the  reader,  that,  being 
much  pleased  with  the  dinner,  and  with  the  appear- 
ance of  every  thing  I  saw,  I  asked  the  landlord 
upon  what  terms  he  would  furnish  board  and  lodg- 
ing—dining every  day  as  well  as  I  had  dined  that 
day,  and  including  breakfast,  coffee  or  tea  in  the 
evening,  and  a  comfortable  chamber  ?    The  answer 
was,  four  francs — the  sum  which  one  often  pays  for 
dinner  alone,  if  no  bargain  has  been  made. 

I  left  Schwytz  in  the  afternoon  to  walk  to  Lauertz, 
and  to  the  spot  where  Goldau  teas.  The  valley  of 
Lauertz  is  very  charming ;  and,  after  a  pleasant 
walk,  I  reached  the  brink  of  the  lake.  It  was  a 
tranquil  and  beautiful  scene,  such  as  all  the  valley 
had  often  exhibited  before  the  awful  catastrophe 
that  covered  it  with  desolation.     A  few  cattle  were 

D  2 


'Mi 


LUCERNE. 


[chap.  XII. 


standing:  in  the  water.      A   little  island,  and  the 
ruins  of  some  <.ld  eaHtle  tliut  once  bad  en)\vn.<l  it, 
Hnely   l)rolv<-  tlie  f^m-Wxco  ;   and  a  t^sliennan   stood 
an<,din<r   <>n    a    low    promontory,      1    contunied    my 
walk,  and  about  sunset  reached  a  little  inn  which 
stands   upon   the   site  of  the   buried   (loldau.      All 
aroun.l  is  ruin  still  ;  and  doubtl.  ss  many  a-'s  must 
yet  elapse,  belnre  the  aspect  of  ruin  can  b.   tliaiij^ed 
to  fertility.     Were  it  not  that  a  scanty  vegetation 
has  sprung  up  amid  desolation,  one  might  believe 
the  event' to   l)e  of   yesterday,  for    the    enormous 
mass<'s  of  rock   lie  as  they  ha%e  fallen  :  and   how 
shall  this  ever  be  otherwise  i     Rocks  withstand  tlu' 
intiuence  of  time  ;  and  man  is  too  insignificant  a 
cri'ature  to  cope  with  eve'i  thv  f'lffrii  mountains.  ^ 

1  have  no  doubt  that  most  readere  know  the  his- 
tory of  this  catastrophe.  Those  who  do,  may  pa.ss 
over  a  page  or  two  ;  for  I  think  it  would  be  inex- 
cusable were  I  to  make  no  mention  of  an  event  so 
calamitous  as  the  destruction  of  Goldau.  It  is  from 
the  little  wt)rk  of  Doctor  Zay  that  1  abridge  the  few 
following  details. 

Tlie  Rossberg,  a  mountain  three  or  four  tlunmund 
feet  high,  stood,  before  this  catastro|.he,  behind  the 
village'of  (ioldau.    The  summer  had  been  unusually 
rainy  ;  and  the  formation  of  several  wide  crevices 
in  tiie  mountain,  though  they  alanned  the  indivi- 
duals who  (liscovrreil  tiu^m,  wtre  mdortmiately  not 
sufficient  to  rouse  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  to  a 
sense  of  their  danger.     In  the  early  part  of  the 
eventful  day,  subterraneous  noises  were  heard  ;  and 
several  large  st(»nes  broke  from  the  mountain  side, 
as  if  acted  upon  by  some  interior   force.     About 
three  in  the  afternoon,  the  awful  event  took  place  ; 
the  mountain  was  rent  in  twain,  and  in  a  thousand 
ponderous  fragments  preci})itated  itself  upon   the 
valley  below.     (Joldau,  liauert/,  and  two  other  vil- 
lages, were  whelmed  in  its  ruins.     Cottages  and 
chalets,  flocks  and  shepherds,  were  carried  with  the 
falling  ma.ss ;  and  one  of  the  most  smiling  among 
the  valleys  of  Switzerland  was  made  desolate  and  a 
gi-ave. 

There  are  many  most  affecting  little  histories 
connected  with  this  event.  The  most  calamitous 
of  these  is,  perhaps,  the  history  of  a  party  of  plea- 
sure, that  had  made  an  excursion  from  Berne  to 
ascend  the  Rigi.  The  i)arty  consisted  of  eleven 
pei*sons,  and,  among  these,  were  a  new-married 
couple,  M.  de  Diesbach  and  his  bride.  Four  only 
of  tlie  eleven  persons  were  saved  ;  and  among  those 
who  perished  was  the  wife  of  M.  de  Diesbach.  Be- 
neath these  masses  their  bodies  still  lie  buried  ; 
and  the  rocks  that  are  piled  above,  are  a  sufficient 
record  of  their  history. 

There  are  also  recorded  some  extraordinary 
escapes,  particularly  those  of  a  nurse  and  a  child, 
buried  all  night  among  the  rocks,  but  uninjured  ; — 
of  another  woman  and  her  child,  cairied  in  the 
cabin  they  inhabited  into  the  valley,  and  unhurt ; — 
and  of  a  house  and  its  inhabitants  swept  into  the 
lake,  but  saved,  owing  to  the  upper  story,  which 
was  of  wood,  detaching  itself  from  the  rest  of  the 
building,  and  swimming,  till  a  boat  relieved  its  in- 
mates. 

Four  hundred  and  fifty  persons  perished.  The 
wrecks  of  the  mountain  covered  a  scjuare  league, 
the  value  of  which  was  estimated  at  about  125,000/. 
A  hundred  and  eleven  houses  were  buried,  besides 
several  churches  and  chapels.  Several  hundred 
head  of  cattle  were  destroyed,  and  a  great  loss  to 


the  omimutn  was  sustained,  from  the  anndulation  of 
the  vast  ext.'Ut  of  tine  pasturage  that  lay  upon  the 
sides  of  the  liossberg.  Such  are  a  few  of  the  pnn- 
cipal  facts  connected  with  the  fall  of  the  Rossberg. 
The  catastrophe  has  been  attributed  to  different 
caus«'s  ;  but,  like  most  of  the  great  natural  pheno- 
mena, the  remote  cause  is  hidden.  W  e  may  go  a 
few  steps  back;  but  they  are  only  steps ;  we  at 
length,  sooner  or  later,  reach  a  point  beyond  which 
all  is  obscurity.  The  fall  of  the  Rossberg  was 
doubtless  occasioned  by  some  internal  convulsion  ; 
but  the  cause  of  that  convulsion  can  never  be  any 
thing  else  than  matter  of  ingenious  dispute. 

It  was  nearlv  dark  when  I  left  this  scene  of  deso- 
lation. But  a  few  years  ago,  and  the  sun  had  set 
upon  a  smiling  valley  ;  a  hundred  habitations  had 
been  gilded  by  its  beams  ;  and  those  who  now  lay 
mouldering  beneath  these  mighty  ruins,  had  sat  by 
their  cottage  doors,  and  amid  their  smiling  families, 
the  evening  before  the  world  closed  upon  them. 
They  talked  of  the  morrow,  and  the  day  after,  as 
days  that  would  surely  come.  They  came,  mde^d, 
but  destruction  came  with  them. 

Some  of  those  who  perished  must  have  found  a 
slow  and  t.rrible  death.  Several  were  discovered 
near  the  surface  of  the  ruins,  enclosed  among  the 
rocks,  an.l  living  ;  and  doubtless  there  were  others 
who  found  themselves  in  a  living  tomb,  far  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  wrecks,  and  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  help.     Let  us  hope  that  their  number  was 

TOW 

It  was  cpiite  dark  when  I  reached  Schwytz,  and 
iKwt  morning  I  returned  to  Brunnen  to  breakfast, 
and  hnmediately  afterwards  continued  my  voyage 
towards  Lucerne.    The  boat  kept  close  to  the  riglit 
side  of  the   lake,  which,   in   the  second  reach,  is   i 
mucii  the  more  beautiful  side  of  the  bank  :  although 
in  many  places  very  steej),  it  is  mostly  covered  with 
the  riciiest  verdure,  and  is  vvell  clothed  with  beech, 
ash,  hazel,  and  oak.     Hay-harvest  was  still  going 
on  upon  the  steeps  ;  and  the  groui)s  of  pei-sons  upon 
the  green  slopes,  j)ausing  from  their  labour,  and 
leaiung  upon  tlieir  rakes,  as  we  passed  below,  added 
much  to  the  interest  of  the  landscape.     This  reach 
of  the  lake  appears  to    be   terminated  by   Mount 
I'ilate,  whose  pointed  summits  form  a  magnificent 
back-ground.     Gersau,  a  little  village  close  to  the 
water,  lies  charmingly.     It  stands  upon  a  low  plat- 
form of  the   brightest  grass,  level  with  the  lake, 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  Sfjuare,  and  bounded  on 
the  other  three  sides  with   lofty  mountains.     Its 
white  houses  lie  along  the  margin  of  the  water, 
every  one  with  its  garden,  and  every  garden  full  ol 
white  lilies.     I  thought  I   liad  seldom  seen  a  spot 
of  sweeter  seclusion. 

The  history  of  Gersau  is  curious.  Before  the 
revolution  it  was  a  republic,  s(>parate  and  indepen- 
dent, and  was  certainly  the  least  state  in  the  world. 
Its  territory  was  not  two  miles  square,  and  it  con- 
tained about  two  hundred  houses,  and  twelve  hun- 
dred inliabitants.  An  attempt  wjus  made  in  1814 
to  revive  the  republic,  but  it  of  course  failed. 

I  wished  to  have  landed  at  Gersau  ;  but  the 
boatmen,  apprehending  a  stonn,  said  we  had  no 
time  to  lost',  if  I  wished  to  reached  Lucerne  before 
it  commenced  ;  and  the  event  proved  the  correct- 
ness of  their  judgment.  The  lake,  at  this  time,  was 
a  sheet  of  glass  ;  not  the  smallest  breath  of  air 
could  be  felt  ;  but  the  sun  shone  as  if  through  a 
veil  ;  and  there  was  that  oppressive  feeling  iu  the 


CHAP.  XII.] 


LUCERNE. 


37 


atmosphere  that  always  indicates  a  change.     The 
entrance  into  the  lowest  reach  of  the  lake  is  ex- 
tremely narrow.     A  new  scene  then   opens,  soft 
and  beautiful,  excepting  in  the  direction  of  Mount 
Pilate,  whose  bald  summits  still  rise  to  the  left. 
Before  travelling  into  Switzerland,  or,  at  all  events, 
soon  after  arriving  in  it,  every  one  heai^  of  the 
RujL    "  Have  you  been   up  the   Rigi  ? "    is  the 
universal  question  ;  "  You  must  be  sure  to  ascend 
the  Rigi,''  the  universal  injunction.     I  knew  that 
the  Rigi  lay  close  to  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  and  to- 
wards its  northern  extremity  ;  and,  full  of  expec- 
tation, I  requested  the  boatmen  to  point  out  the 
Rigi  the  moment  we  should  come  in  sight  of  it. 
"  Voila  le  Rigi,"  said  the  only  one  of  the  boatmen 
who  spoke  French  ;   and  I  saw  before  me  a  low, 
clumsily-shaped  hill,  green  to  the  summit,  and  over- 
topped by  many  othera  of  the  mountams.    The  Rigi 
is,  in  fact,  scarcely  higher   than   several   of  our 
British  mountains,  and  is  only  remarkable  l)y  its 
position,  and  on  account  of  the  magnificent  prospect 
enjoyed  from  its  summit.     The  finest  views  are  not 
from  the  highest  mountains.     An  extensive,  and  a 
beautiful  view,  are  totally  different  things  ;  and  of 
this  distinction,  a  better  illustration  cannot  be  found, 
than  in  the  relative  interest  of  the  prospect  en- 
joyed from  the  summits  of  the  Rigi,  and  of  Mount 
"Pi'late. 

The  boatmen  made  every  exertion  to  reach  Lu- 
cerne before  the  storm  began,  not  probably  from 
any  apprehension  of  danger,  but  afraid  lest  a  heavy 
gale  should  set  in  ahead,  when  they  would  require 
to  labour  harder  and  longer.  About  a  league  before 
reaching  Lucerne,  hov^ever,  the  stonn  burst  over 
us,  the  slieet  of  gl.ass  was  changed  into  a  little 
angry  sea  covered  with  foam,  and  all  the  moun- 
tains were  in  a  moment  shrouded.  But  we  were 
already  almost  sheltered  by  the  land  ;  and  another 
hour's  hard  tugging  brought  us  into  the  basin. 

The  situation  of  Lucerne  is  more  beautiful  than 
striking.  Upon  the  whole  it  disappointed  me  at 
first,  because  the  bt-auty  of  its  environs  is  scarcely 
seen  in  approaching  it  from  the  lake  ;  and  I  missed 
those  stupendous  mountains  among  which  I  had 
thought  to  have  found  it.  In  fact.  Lucerne  does 
not  lie  in  a  mountainous  country,  although  the 
mountains  approach  near  to  it  ;  but  it  lies  in  a 
highly  fertile  and  eminently  beautiful  country,  such 
as  no  other  town  in  Switzerland  can  boast,  except- 
ing Zurich.  I  took  an  evening  stroll  through  the 
street,  after  the  heavy  rain  w  liicli  followed  the  storm 
that  had  subsided,  and  found  mvself  accidentallv 
uj)on  one  of  the  bridges.  The  rapidity  of  the  Reuss 
as  it  leaves  the  lake  is  astonishing,  and  the  clearness 
of  its  water  no  less  so.  All  the  rivers  which  empty 
themselves  into  the  Swiss  lakes — the  Rhone,  the 
Rhine,  the  Reuss,  the  Aar,  the  Limmat — enter  the 
respective  lakes  less  or  more  discoloured  :  but  all 
of  them  leave  the  lakes  perfectly  timnsparent,  though 
not  all  of  precisely  the  same  hue.  The  Reuss,  in 
leaving  the  lake  of  Lucerne,  is  of  a  light  green, 
almost  approaching  limpidity  ;  the  Rhine,  in  leaving 
the  lake  of  Constance,  is  of  a  darker  green  ;  the 
Rhone,  in  leaving  the  lake  of  Geneva,  bears  a  deep 
blue  tint  ;  while  the  Aar  and  the  Limmat,  as  they 
How  out  of  the  lakes  of  Thun  and  Zurich,  are  almost 
entirely  colourless. 

The  day  after  I  arrived  in  Lucerne,  the  weekly 
corn-market  was  held.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  in 
Switzerland,  because  it  is  meant  for  the  supply,  not 


of  Lucerne  only,  but  of  the  Cantons  of  Unterwaldeii 
and  Uri,  neither  of  which  grow  almost  any  grain  ; 
and  Lucerne  is  the  only  place  from  which  the  inha- 
bitants can  supply  their  wants.  Numerous  boats 
from  Fluelen,  and  from  the  villages  lying  on  the 
LTnterwalden  side,  arrived  during  the  morning  ; 
and  the  market  was  a  busy  and  very  abundant  one. 
There  was  a  large  supply  of  rye  and  of  wheat,  and 
a  little  oats  and  barley.  The  price  of  wheat,  re- 
duced into  f^nglish  money  and  measure,  was  ,'i(>s., 
the  price  of  rye  14s.  per  quarter.  The  growth  of 
grain  in  the  Canton  of  Lucerne  is  not  sufficient  to 
supply  those  other  Cantons  of  Uri  and  L;  nterwalden. 
Lucerne  grows  scarcely  more  than  suffices  for  its 
own  demand.  The  greater  part  of  the  grain  tliat 
comes  into  the  market  at  Lucerne,  is  from  the 
Canton  of  Argovie,  which  is  the  granary  of  Swit- 
zerland. 

From  the  corn-market  I  walked  into  the  other 
markets.  The  vegetable-market  I  found  very 
abundantly  supplied,  and  very  picturesque,  owing  to 
the  great  variety  of  the  women's  dresses.  A  stran- 
ger ought  never  to  omit  visiting  the  vegetable-market 
in  every  town,  because  he  may  always  gather,  from 
what  he  sees  there,  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  female 
peasantry,  both  as  to  dress  and  personal  aj)pear- 
ance.  Here  I  found  nothing  to  admire  in  the  latter  ; 
and  could  only  regret,  that  dresses  so  well  calcula- 
ted to  set  off  a  pretty  face,  were  employed  to  so  little 
purpose.  The  meat-market  I  found  clean  and 
orderlv,  and  the  meat,  although  not  in  great  varietv, 
seemed  good.  I  found  prices  to  be  as  follows  : — 
beef  S^d.,  other  kinds  of  meat  lid.,  butter  7id.,  eggs 
4d.  a  dozen,  a  good  fowl  8d.  Bread,  I  afterwards 
found  to  be  l^d.  per  lb.  Vegetables  and  fruit  are 
alwavs  al)undant  and  reasonable.  No  wine  is  irrown 
in  thi^  cantcm.  The  inhabitants  drink  either  the 
wine  of  Neufchatel,  or  of  the  Bays  de  Vaud.  The 
former  costs,  in  an  inn,  a  franc  per  bottle,  the  latter 
fifteen  sous. 

In  walking  through  tlio  streets  of  Lucerne,  the 
stranger  does  not  find  much  to  attract  him,  unless 
he  be  so  interested  in  Swiss  history  as  to  be  arrested 
by  the  j)ictures  on  the  old  bridge,  where  all  the  im- 
portant events  in  Helvetian  history  are  faithfully 
represented  in  oil-colours,  doubtless  tending  to  keep 
alive,  among  the  youth  of  Lucerne,  a  knowledge  of 
Swiss  independence,  and  a  regard  for  its  preserva- 
tion.    But  Lucerne,  although  not  pixjlific  in  those 
external  attractions  which  catch  the  eve  (»f  a  sti'an- 
ger,  is  possessed  of  many  recommendations  of  ano- 
ther kind.     The  institutions  for  the  intellectual  and 
moral  improvement  of  its  inhabitants,  are  upon  a 
scale  of  great  liberality.     Of  these,  1  will  mention 
only  one — the  great  public  school.  Into  this  school, 
every  child  until  the  age  of  twelve  is  admitted,  upon 
payment  of  six  francs  per  annum,  and  is  taught 
reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  and  the  first  princijiles 
of  Latin  ;  and  this  privilege  of  ac(iuiring,  in  early 
years,  the  rudiments  of  learning,  is  not  confined  to 
the  city  of  Lucerne,  nor  even  to  the  canton  ;  per- 
sons may  claim  admittance  from  any  other  of  the 
Swiss  cantons,  and  even  from   foreign   countries. 
But  the  privilege  I  have  mentioned  is  followed  by 
another  still  greater.     The  college  and  the  school 
are  one  establishment  ;  and  every  one  who  has  re- 
ceived his  education  in  the  school,  is  immediately 
received  as  a  pupil  of  the  college,  and  pays  nothing 
for  his   instruction    there.      He   is   taught    Latin, 
Greek,  Mathematics,  Theology,  Painting  and  Music. 


•AH 


LUCERNE. 


[CUAP.  XII. 


The  French  lanL^uairc  is  also  tauuht  ;  hut  this  costs 
six  francs  per  aiuiuin — a  tritliiij,'  sum  indeed,  liut 
neverthelcHS  justilyin^'  the  strange  conclusion,  that 
painting  and  music  are  looked  upon  as  more  indis- 
pensahle  branches  of  education  than  I'rench.  The 
original  fund  for  this  e^.tal)lishnirut  amounted  to 
400,0(M>  francs,  but  has  .suhse(iuently  been  greatly- 
increased  by  donations.  With  such  an  establish- 
ment as  this,  the  Canton  of  Lucerne  ought  to  be 
more  enlightened  than  it  is. 

The  state  of  morals  iu  Lucerne,  I  have  reason  to 
think,  are  not  remarkably  pure — less  so  than  in 
most  of  the  other  Swiss  cities,  I  visited  the  gaol, 
and  found  in  it  foi-ty  men,  and  the  same  number  of 
women — twenty-six  of  the  latter  for  repeated  viola- 
tions of  chastity.  The  magistrates  of  Lucerne  guard 
well  the  morals  of  the  inhabitants  ;  for  there,  as  in 
Zuricli,  dancing  is  forbidden,  excepting  during  the 
last  threi.'  days  of  the  carnival,  and  any  two  other 
days  that  may  be  selected.  At  marriages,  however, 
the  strictness  of  the  law  is  relaxed,  and  permission 
may,  upon  such  occasions,  be  easily  obtained  from 
the  magistracy.  1  did  not  expect  to  find  any 
limitation  upon  dancing  in  a  catholic  canton  ;  for, 
throughout  catholic  Europe,  dancing  forms  the 
chief  reci'eation  i>f  the  inhabitants. 

There  is  one  well-known  object  of  curiosity  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Lucerne — the  monument  erected 
to  the  memory  of  the  Swiss  guards  who  fell  in  de- 
fending the  Tuileries  on  the  10th  of  August,  1792. 
Will  some  })atriotic  Swiss  erect  another  momunent 
to  their  countrymen,  who  fell  in  the  second  revolu- 
tion of  IH'M)  i  The  revolution  of  171)2  was  as  ne- 
cessary as  the  revolution  of  IH'M)  ;  and  although 
Louis  was  a  better  king  than  Charles,  the  Swiss  are 

of  a  monument   in    the   one 
the  other,      liut  it  is  of  the  monument 


survivors  of  the  Swiss  guard,  and  of  course  related 
to  me,  as  I  suppose  he  does  to  every  one  else,  the 
history  of  his  dangei-s  and  escape.  He  is  a  fine 
old  man,  and  ceitainly  adds  to  the  interest  of  the 
lion  he  shows. 

The  same  morning  1  mad.  a  more  complete  tour 
of  the  city,  passing  along  all  the  four  bridges,  and 
looking  into  the  churches  and  the  shop-windows. 
One  of  the  bridges  is  of  extraordinary  length  ;  it 
crosses  the  river  near  its  outlet  from  the  lake,  and 
is  no  less  than  1370  feet  long.  Upon  this  bridge 
are  a  vast  number  of  paintings  from  Scripture  his- 
tory ;  and  1  noticed  that  a  greater  number  of  per- 
sons were  attracted  by  these,  than  by  the  represen- 
tations of  Swiss  history  on  the  other  bridge.  There 
are  still  two  more  bridges  ;  one  uncovered,  and 
very  ancient,  and  the  other  adorned  with  pictures 
from  Holbein's  Dance  of  Death.  I  omitted  to  say, 
when  speaking  of  the  bridge  consecrated  to  Swiss 
history,  that  near  the  centre  is  an  ancient  tower 
called  the  Water-tower,  probably  used  as  a  prison 
in  former  times,  though  some  say  it  was  used  as  a 
watch-tower. 

If  one  should  happen  to  be  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  churches  in  Lucerne,  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  walk  in.  In  the  cathedral  there  is  a  i)icture  l)y 
Lanfranc  ;  and  1  was  particularly  struck  with  the 
size  of  the  organ.  It  contains  nearly  3000  i»ii>es, 
some  of  them  thirty-seven  feet  high,  and  cannot,  I 
think,  be  much  inferior  hi  magnitude  to  the  cele- 
brated organ  of  Uaerlem.  While  1  stood  admiring 
the  «>rgan,  an  old  man  accosted  me,  asking  it  i 
would  like  to  see  the  relics  ;  "  nous  arons  la  plus  belle 
collection  dii  momk^'  siiid  he,  and  1  willingly  acceded 


perliaps  as  deservmg 
case  as  in 


to  the  i>roposal.  The  richest  jtarts  of  the  collection 
are  the  bones  of  saints  ;  but  if  my  little  anatomical 
knowledge  does  not  greatly  deceive  me,  1    took  up 


been  martyrs  and  saints  among  the  brute  creation. 
My  conductor,  to  whom  1  expressed  this  opinion  in 
as^  delicate  terms  as  possible,  only  grinned  at  me  a 
smile  of  susj)icion  of  my  orthodoxy,  and  passed  on 
to  a  fragment  of  the  true  cross. 

There  are  some  delightful  promenades  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Lucerne,  to  which  accident  con- 
ducted me  in  the  evening.  One  of  tlu'in,  a  garden, 
at  a  short  distance  from  a  gentleman's  house,  which 
is  situated  upon  a  little  eminence.  I  was  jtarticu- 
larly  pleased  here  with  a  trifling  act  of  uncalled-for 
civilitv.     At  a  short  distance  from  the  house,  there 


itself,  not  of  the  cause  of  its  erection,  that  1  must  |  some  fragments  which  would  itrovi'  that  there  have 
speak.  The  monument  is  to  be  found  in  the  garden 
of  general  Pfyfi'er,  a  name  well  known  throughout 
Switzerland  ;  it  is  hewn  out  of  a  solid  rock,  and  re- 
presents a  lion  dying,  wounded  by  an  arrow,  and 
seeming,  even  in  the  agonies  of  death,  to  j»rotect 
the  d'  ur-i/c-lis.  The  lion  is  tweiitv-ei'rht  feet  in 
length,  and  is  eighteen  feet  high  ;  and  the  execution 
is  deserving  of  every  commendation.  The  idea  was 
proposed  to  Thorwaldsen  by  a  i)ei'son  sent  to  Rome 
for  the  purpose  by  general  Pfytfer,  and  with  some 
little  variations  Thorwaldsen  adopted  the  original 
design,and  executed  a  model  accordingly,  which  was 

brought  to  Switzerland,  and  intrusted  to  M.  Aliorn,  '  is  a  jt-t  of  very  clear  water  which  falls  into  a  -^"I'llj 
a  sculptor  of  Constance,  by  whom  the  work  was 
completed.  He  laljoured  at  it  eighteen  months,  ami 
received  50,000  francs  (2000/.  sterUng).  Many 
objections  have  been  made  to  this  monument.  1 
pass  over  those  oti'ered  by  such  as  condemn  the 
cause  of  its  erection,  and  who  so  admire  the  principle 
of  the  French  revolution,  that  they  cannot  i)erceive 
any  beauty  in  a  work  intended  to  commemorate 
resistance  to  it.  Others  say,  the  idea  of  the  monu- 
ment is  not  sufficiently  national  ;  but  the  j)rincipal 
objections  are  those  which  deny  the  originality  of 
the  desitrn.     They  say,  that  two  monuments  of  a 


similar  design  are  to  be  found  elsewhere  ;  one  at 
Strasbourg,  the  monunu'nt  of  marshal  Saxe  ;  and 
the  other  at  Vienna,  in  both  of  which,  the  union  of 
strength  and  death  is  represented  by  a  lion  ;  but 
whatever  may  be  said  of  the  desiirn,  1  believe  no 
one  objects  to  the  exeeution. 


design,  1 

The  old  soldier  who 


marble  basin.  The  evening  was  warm,  and  1  lifted 
a  little  water  in  my  hand  to  my  lips.  A  minute  or 
two  afterwards,  a  girl  came  running  from  the  house, 
and  presented  me  with  a  glass  upon  a  silver  salver. 
In  the  course  of  my  walk  1  passed  two  convents, 
both  of  the  Capuchin  order  ;  one  for  men,  the  other 
for  women.  The  latter  is  as  rich  as  the  other  is 
poor  ;  and  to  the  sistei-s,  accordingly,  the  poor 
trial's  are  indebted  for  whatever  little  comforts  the 
rules  of  their  order  pennit  them  to  enjoy. 

Lucerne  is  one  of  the  most  important  of  the 
Swiss  cantons,  not  only  as  being  one  of  the  largest 
and  the  most  fertile,  but  as  sharing  the  pri-sidency 
of  the  diet  with  Berne  and  Zurich,  and  as  being 
the  chief  of  the  catholic  cantons.  Spain  had  for- 
merly an  ambassador  at  Lucerne,  and  the  pope's 
nuncio  is  still  resident  in  the  city.  The  canton 
produces  a  little  more  than  it  consumes,  but  how 


showed  me  the  monument,  was  himself  one  of  the  |  much  more   would  it   produce,  were  industry  as 


I 


CHAP.  XIII.J 


BERNE. 


39 


active  within  it  as  in  the  Cantons  of  Berne  and 
Zurich  ?     A  great  part  of  Lucerne  is  covered  with 
the  finest  soil  ;  and  1  have  never  any  where  seen 
more  abundant  crops  than  are  produced  in  those 
parts,  where  time  and  industry  are  bestowed  upon 
the  land.     In  no  part  of  Switzerland  might  the  in- 
habitants be  more  at  their  ease  than  in  this  canton  ; 
and  yet  there  is  not  a  commune  in  which  paupers 
are  not  to  be  found.     There  are  no  direct  taxes  in 
I  tlie  canton  ;  but  every  inhabitant  of  the  city  pays 
six  francs  per  annum,  without  distinction  of  for- 
tune ;  and  there  is  also  a  small  tax  levied  for  the 
maintenance  of  a  police. 

The  canton  is  not  so  purely  a  republic  as  some 
of  the  other  cantons.  The  city  has  the  right  of 
returning  one-half  of  the  members  of  the  supreme 
council  ;  and  tliese  members  enjoy  their  dignity  for 
life.  The  clergy  in  this  canton  are  numei-ous. 
There  are  no  fewer  than  HI  resident  in  the  capi- 
tal, which  is  nearly  two  to  every  hundred  inha- 
bitants. 

Whilst  I  remained  in  Lucerne,  the  weather  was 
unfavourable  for  the  ascent  of  the  mountains.  Mists 
were  constantly  hovering  over  them,  and  often  ob- 
scuring their  summits  ;  but  I  resolved  to  make  an 
attempt.  My  choice  was  divided  between  Mount 
Pilate  and  the  Rigi  ;  but  as  the  weather  cleared  up 
considerably  the  second  day  of  my  stay  in  Lucerne, 
1  resolved  to  attempt  the  ascent  of  Mount  Pilate, 
because  the  Rigi  being  greatly  lower,  I  might  more 
probably  find  an<»tlier  oi>p(ntunity  of  ascending  it. 
1  may  be  allowed  to  say  a  few  words  of  my  attempt, 
although  it  proved  unsuccessful. 

I  left  Lucerne  about\threi'  in  the  afternoon,  with 
an  active  anil  very  intelligent  guide,  and  passed 
through  a  very  charming  country  between  Lucerne 
and  the  base  of  the  mountain.     The  lower  part  of 
the  mountain   is  finely  wooded,  and  the  ascent  to 
the  pasturages  is  not  at  all  fatiguing.    These  stretch 
to  a  very  considerable  elevation,  and  I  found  them 
covered  with   cattle.     After  about  an  hour  and  a 
half  easy  walking,  1  gained  a  ridge,  from  which  the 
path  descended  rapitlly  into  an  alpine  valley  called 
Eigenthal,     Traversing  this,  it  mounts  again,  still 
passing  through  continued  j)asturage,  and  getting 
constantly  steeper  ;  and  about  half-past  seven,  or  a 
little  later,   I   gained  the    Jiriindlenalpe,   where  I 
pur]>osed   sleeping.      At   this   time,    the    different 
summits  of  the  mountain  were  entirely  free  from 
clouds  ;  and  1  could  not  but  regret  that  the  evening 
was  too  far  advanced  to  justify  me  in  attempting 
the  ascent.     I  slept  in  a  chalet  in  the   Briindle- 
nalpe,  and  slept  well  ;  but  it  was  a  sad  dLsappoint- 
nient,  when,  upon  hooking  out  early  next  morning, 
I  saw  nothing  beyond  the  elevation  where  I  stood ; 
especially  as  my  guide  had  been  quite  confident  in  his 
anticipations  of  a  serene  morning.    I  waited  two  or 
three  hours,  in  hopes  that  the  sunshine  might  break 
through,  and  disjierse  the  mists  ;  but  the  expecta- 
tion was  vain  ;  the  clouds  became  more  dense,  rol- 
ling down  the  valleys  ;  and  below,  as  well  as  above 
nie,  the  mountain  was  soon  entirely  shrouded.     I 
turned    towards    Lucerne    very   reluctantly,   and 
reached  the  hotel  about  mid-day. 

Mount  Pilate  is,  on  many  accounts,  an  interest- 
ing mountain.  Its  very  appearance  creates  an  in- 
terest ;  for  the  form  of  its  three  highest  peaks  is 
singularly  striking  ;  and,  rising  immediately  from 
the  lake  to  the  height  of  more  than  7000  feet,  it 
presents  a  grand,  and  seemingly  a  very  elevated 


front.  It  was  upon  this  mountain  that,  many  years 
ago,  a  great  and  useful  work  was  constructed,  for 
the  purpose  of  facilitating  the  descent  of  timber. 
It  was  a  kind  of  groove,  no  less  than  40,000  feet 
(nearly  eight  miles)  in  length  ; — a  most  gigantic 
work,  and  worthy  of  a  more  endurijig  fate.  A  trunk 
of  a  tree,  ninety  feet  long,  and  two  feet  in  diameter, 
committed  to  this  groove,  accomplished  its  journey 
in  the  inconceivably  short  space  of  two  minutes  and 
a  half.  Compared  with  this,  what  are  the  move- 
ments of  the  locomotive  steam-engines  ?  This  work 
was  destroyed  in  1819.* 

There  is  a  tradition  connected  witli  tliis  mountain, 
which  I  must  not  omit  noticing.  There  is  a  small 
lake,  very  high  up  in  the  mountain,  into  which 
Pontius  Pilate,  stung  with  remoree,  is  said  to  have 
plunged  ;  and  this  event,  in  the  popular  belief  of 
bygone  days,  was  of  course  looked  upon  as  the  cause 
of  all  the  storms  that  assailed  the  mountain,  and  of 
every  misfortune  that  befel  those  who  lived  within 
its  precincts.  The  superstition,  1  believe,  has  passed 
away  ;  but  that  it  did  exist  to  a  surprising  extent 
is  certain.  There  are  two  caverns  or  grottos  near 
the  Briindlenalpe,  said  to  be  of  vast  extent ;  but,  for 
my  part,  I  always  refuse  to  visit  grottos,  which  I 
have  never  found  to  repay  the  traveller  for  his 
trouble  ;  and  the  entrance  to  those  on  Mount  Pilate 
being  dangerous  as  well  as  troublesome,  I  declined 
listening  to  the  importunities  of  my  guide. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BERNE. 

Journey  from  Lucerne  to  Berne— The  Zempeacher-Zce— 
Appearance  of  Berne — Preparations  for  Opening:  the  Diet 
—Arrival  of  the  Deputies— The  Platform  of  the  Cathedral, 
and  view  of  the  Oberland  Bernois— The  Markets  and 
Prices  of  Provisions— Berne  as  a  Residence— Sunday  in 
Berne— St.  Christophe— The  Tirage  Federal— Crime  and 
Punishment — Anecdote — The  Opening  of  the  Diet — Ho- 
nours rendered  to  Ladies — Details  respecting  the  Opening 
Ceremonies — Public  Opinion  and  Political  Party  in  Swit- 
zerland. 

The  Rigi  continued  enveloped  in  clouds  ;  and  I  did 
not  remain  at  Lucerne  till  they  were  dissipated.  I 
therefore  missed  the  panorama  of  the  Rigi,  which 
all  the  world  agrees  is  worth  seeing,  and  left  Lu- 
cerne en  Toiture  for  Berne.  Pedestrianism  is 
agreeable  in  mountainous  countries  only  ;  and  as 
this  is  not  the  character  of  the  country  from  Lu- 
cerne to  Berne,  I  changed  for  a  while  my  travelling 
character. 

Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  environs 
of  Lucerne,  on  the  side  of  Berne.     The  Reuss  flows 
in  a  fine  broad  rapid  stream,  close  to  the  road  ; 
while,  on  the  other  side,  the  most  inviting  slopes  re- 
deem the  country  from  the  character  of  tameness. 
Gardens  and  orchards  lie  along  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  and  neat  country-houses  give  animation  to  the 
landscape.     This  part  of  Switzerland  strongly  re- 
minded me  of  some  parts  of  the  county  of  Worcester. 
The  lake  of  Serapach,  or  the  Zempeacher-Zee,  is  not 
much  heard  of ;  and  yet,if  one  arrived  upon  its  banks 
without  having  previously  seen  any  of  those  other 
lakes   which    are   surrounded  by  more    majestic 
scenery,  the  lake  of  Sempach  would  be  called  beau- 
tiful.    I  journeyed  along  its  banks  just  before  sun- 

•  See  Appendix. 


40 


BERNE. 


[chap.  xiii. 


set,  and  was  greativ  .K4i-htcd  with  the  gvutlv  scenes 
that  lav  near  it.  The  lulls  HmToun.lini;  it  do  not 
rise  more  than  a  thousand  feet  above  its  level,  and 
are  cov(U'ed  with  meadows  and  woods  ;  and  not 
fewer  than  six  or  ei.L^ht  vilhiges  are  scattered  along 
the  mar<,dn  of  the  water.  A  ehang<'  in  scenery,  as 
in  almost  any  thin-,'  else,  is  pleasing'  ;  and,  glorious 
as  is  the  scenery  of  the  mountains,  tiie  mmd  expe- 
riences an  agreeable  emotion,  when,  after  a  long 
journey  amid  the  sublime  objects  tluy  disclose,  we 
descend  into  the  fertile  plain.  Excitement  may  be 
too  intense  to  be  long  sustained  without  pain  ;  and 
this  is  the  secret  of  the  pleasurable  emotion  we  ex- 
perience. The  quieter  and  tamer  beauties  of  tlie 
plain  are  f.lt  to  be  a  relief,  and  bring  repose  to  the 
over-wrought  feelings. 

After  leaving  the  Zerapeacher-Zee,  I  contmued 
to  pass  through  much  the  same  kind  of  country,  and 
stopped  at  a  place  I  thiid<  called   Ca stein,  for  tlie 
ni'dit.      la  this  neighliourhood  1  ninarked  the  most 
luxuriant  crops,  and  the  most  neglected  land,  side 
by  side.     The  cause  was  worth  inquiring  into  ;  and 
the  explanation  was  such  as  I  expected,  but  much 
regretted  to  learn.    This  part  of  the  canton  borders 
upon  that  of  iUrne.  The  proprietors  are  some  of  them 
catholics,  s«mie  protestants.     So  far  the  enigma  is 
unexplained,     lint,  uidVyrtunately,  there  is  no  part 
of  Switzerland  wliere  the  consciences  of  the   inha- 
bitants are  so  tender  as  here,  nor  any  ]>art  where 
this  tenderness  is  so  much  encouraged.      1  u  the  vil- 
lage I  allude  to  the  bell  rings  for  prayers  at  five. 
The  chuivh  is  not  close  to  the  village,  so  tliat  dress- 
iiiLT,  going  to  church,  the  observances  when  there, 
n  Uirning,  undressing,  and  breakfasting,  occupy  the 
entire  morning  ;  and  the  same  observances  at  two 
in  the  afternoon,  occupy  other  two  liours.     If  we 
allow,  as  an  average,  twelve  hours  for  labour,  and 
say  that  four  hours  are  occupied  in  the  manner  1 
have  mentioned — and  this  is  the  very  least  that  can 
be   allowed— oiie-thinl    more    labour   is   bestowed 
upon  the  land  belonging  to  the  protestants,  than 
that  belonging  to  the  catholics  ;   and  if  to  these 
hours  we  add  twenty-two  holidays,  we  have  a  still 
more  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  enigma  1  have 
mentioned. 

That  part  of  the  Canton  of  Berne  which  lies  be- 
tween its  metropolis  and  Lucexne,  is  a  rich  and  well- 
enclosed  country,  fertile  in  every  kind  (d'  grain,  and 
abounding  in  luxuriant  meadows  ;  an<l  in  aj'proach- 
ing  the  city,  well-built,  and  sometinus  prettily- 
ornamented'  housts  show  themselves  every  few 
hundretl  yards.  The  first  view  of  Berne  is  striking. 
A  fine  irregular  line  of  lofty  houses  is  seen  stretch- 
ing along  the  top  of  the  height  that  overhangs  the 
river.  Gardens  slope  down  to  its  brink  ;  and  at  the 
end  of  the  line,  on  a  still  greater  elevation,  stands 
the  cathedral,  surrounded  by  the  dark  shade  of  some 
sombre  trees.  There  are  three  pjrincipal  hotels  in 
Berne,  La  Faucon,  La  C'ouronne,  and  Les  Uentil- 
hommes.  1  had  been  recommended  to  the  latter, 
and  ft)und  great  reason  to  be  pleased  with  it.  The 
Falcon  is  the  house  chiefiy  fretjuenteil  by  the  En- 
glish ;  and  I  have  been  ti)ld,  that  it  happens  fre- 
quently, at  the  table  d'hote,  there  is  not  a  native  of 
any  other  country  than  England.  1  believe  it  is  an 
excellent  hotel,  though  somewhat  exi»ensive. 

Berne  has  much  the  air  of  a  metropolis,  and 
several  of  its  streets  are  well  worthy  of  the  rank  it 
holds  ;  f()r  although  Zurich  be  larger,  and  niore 
populous,  and  the  Canton  oi'  Zurich  the  first  in  the 


confederation,  Berne  is  the  reputed  capital  of  all 
Switzerland,  and   is,  in  cons<'quence,  the  residence 
of  the   ministei-s   of  the  ditiiii-nt  foreign  powers. 
Hut  although  there  is  much  permanent  magnificence 
al>out    Berne,  the  bustle  which,  upon  ent<'ring  the 
town,  struck  me  as  being  so  different  from   any  of 
the  other  Swiss  towns,  1  found  was  owing  to  a  spe- 
cific cause  :  the  diet  was  about  to  assemble,  and  this 
of    course    created    a    great    intiux    of    company. 
Scarcely  ten  minutes  elai)sed  without  an  arrival  : 
but  the  most  amusing  of  these  was  the  arrival  of  the 
deputies  themselves.     The  carriage  in  which  sat 
each  deputy,  generally  in  solitary  state,  was  pre- 
ceded by  an  official  person  on  horseback,  himself 
and  the  hinder  part  of  his  horse  covered  with  an 
enormous  mantle,  one  lialf  of  it  of  one  colour,  and 
the  other  half  of  another.     Nothing  can  be  more 
fantastic  than  the  appearance  of  these  men.     One 
side  of  tlieir  mantles  of  fiaming  red  perhaps,  the 
other  bright  yellow,  or  white,  or  any  other  colour 
in  perfect  contrast  with  it  ;  and  each  had  a  great 
cocked  hat  on  his  head,  and  an  enormous  sword  by 
his  side.     These  are  the  colours  of  the  canton  ;  but 
why  two  colours  should  be  necessary,  I  could  learn 
no  farther,  than  tliat  such  is  the  will  of  the  council. 
It  was  amusing  enough  to  observe  the  contrast  in 
the  entree  of  the  different  deputies.     You  hear  the 
(juick  pace  of  a  hoi-se,  and  mounted  upon  it  is  the 
official  in  his  mantle  ;  but  the  mantle  is  new,  the 
colours  bright,  the  feather  in  the  cocked  hat  full 
and  unsullied,  and  the  horse  that  has  the  honour  to 
carry   all    this,  handsome   and    handsomely   capa- 
risoned ;  then  is  heard  an  extraordinary  cracking 
of  whips,  and  four  or  five  well-conditioned  horses, 
guided  by  a  smart  jtostilion,  are  seen  trotting  quickly 
along,  and  a  hand.some,  new-painted,  and  somew  hat 
gaudy  carriage  beliind,  in  which  sits  the  deputy. 
This  is  doubtless  the  deputy  of  Zurich,  or  Basle,  or 
St.  Gall.      Now  for  the  contrast.     You   hear  the 
stumbling  pace  of  a  hack,  and  mounted  upon  it  is 
also  the  otticial  in  his  mantle  ;  but  the  mantle  is  old, 
the  colours  faded,  the  feather  in  the  cocked  hat 
meagre  and  tarnished  ;  and  the  horse  below  beai-s 
its  honoui-s  meekly,  its  head  looks  earthward,  and 
its  trappings  are  evidently  n  commended  by  long 
service.     Then  one  or  two' feeble  cracks  are  heard, 
just  loud  enough  to  ac<iuit  the  conscience  of  the 
post ili( 111  from  the  charge  (tf  entering  the  metropo- 
lis without  one  sign  of  a  deputy  ;  and  two  or  three 
rough  horses  are  seen  at  something  between  a  trot 
and  a  walk,  dragging  along  a  heavy  rolling  machine, 
though  certainly  of  the  conch  speeie.s,  in  whieh  sits 
the  honourable  deputy.     This  }ou  may  set  down  as 
the  de{)ut}  of  I'nterwalden,  Uri,  or  Tessin;  so  great 
is  the  ditterence  between  the  wealth  and  imjiortaiiee 
of  one  canton  and  an(»ther,  and  the  means  of  their 
several  representatives.      It  is  not  the  etiquette  for 
a  deputy  to  make  his  entree  accompanied  by  any 
part  of  liis  family,  so  that  a  separate  cairiage  gene- 
nilly  followed  at  a  little  distance,  carrying  the  wife 
and' part  of  the  family  of  the  representative.     Al- 
most all  the  deputies  bring  their  wives  ;  this  is  no 
doubt  the  result  of  a  very  natural  vanity  on  the  part 
of  the  ladies,  who,  for  one  year  at   least  in  their 
lives,  are  elevated  above  the'station  (d  tlieir  neigh- 
bours, and  enjoy  eertuin  high  privilt  gi  s  and  honours 
while  they  mix  in  the  society  of  Berne—precedence, 
for  example.     This  is  strictly  observed,  not  only  in 
general  society,  but  among  each  othei'.     Tin-  wiie 
of  a  deputy  not  only  takis  precedence  of  ail   ladies 


f 


4 


CHAP.  XIII.] 


BERNE. 


41 


who  are  not  deputies'  wives,  but  each  takes  prece- 
dence according  to  the  rank  wliich  the  canton  re- 
presented by  her  husband  holds  in  the  confederation. 
The  consequence  of  this  is,  that  the  small  have 
precedence  over  the  great — a  thing  that  I  do  not 
believe  occurs  in  any  other  part  of  the  world.  Tlic 
wives  of  the  representatives  of  Uri,  Unterwalden, 
and  Schwytz,  must  take  precedence  of  their  rivals 
from  the  greater  and  richer  cantons  of  Basil,  St. 
Gall,  Argovie,  Geneva,  &c. 

The  first  time   1   left  the  hotel,  I  directed  my 
steps  towards  the  platform  of  the  cathedral,  so  cele- 
brated for  the  magnificent  view  enjoyed  from  it  of 
the  Alps  Bernois.     This  platform  stands  about  1 00 
feet  above  the  river.     It  is  not  very  large  ;  but  the 
fine  shade  above,  and  the  charming  prospect  around, 
sufficiently  justify  the  preference  of  the  inhabitants. 
The  Aar  sweeps  in  a  noble  stream  below.     Gar- 
dens in  terraces  hang  upon  the  bank,  which,  for  a 
mile  in  length, presents  a  beautiful  declivity, covered 
with  fruit-trees,  and  ever-greens,  and  weeping-wil- 
lows, and  enamelled  with  the  dyes  of  a  thousand 
flowers.     Beyond  the  river,  the  eye  ranges  over  a 
country  rich  in  every  kind  of  verdure,  sprinkled 
with  villages,  and  thickly  studded  with  white  houses 
and  cottages  ;  and  beyond  stretches  the  vast  line  of 
mountains,  their  summits  distinguishable  from  the 
clouds  only  by  their  greater  i)urity.     I  frequently 
returned  to  this  spot  while  1  remained  in  Berne, 
and  contemplated  this  magnificent  amphitheatre  in 
all   the  varieties  lent  to  it  by  the  ditterent  lights 
ami   hues  of  morning,  noon,  and  evening  ;  and  so 
vivid  and  pleasing  are  my  recollections  of  the  hours 
I  spent  there,  that  were  I  asked  to  enumerate  the 
advantages  of  different  spots  as  places  of  residence, 
I    should    certainly   bear   this   platform    in   mind. 
Many  other  cities  have  fine  promenades,  and  i^olrUes 
des  rues,  as  the  French  call  them  ;  but  then  an 
hour  or  two  is  perhaps  required  to  get  to  them  ; 
whereas  one  may  walk  from  any  part  of  Berne  to 
the  platform   in   ten  minutes.      There,  too,  other 
senses  besides  that  of  sight  may  be  gratified ;  for 
while  nature  has  spread  out  a  feast  for  the  most  in- 
tellectual of  the  senses,  man  has  provided  for  the 
wants  of  another — the  least  refined   of  them  all. 
A  commodious  cafe  flanks  the  corner  of  the  prome- 
nade, where  you  may  one  moment  contemplate  the 
glories  of  Jungfrau,  and  the  next,  the  more  rosy 
and  scarcely  less  frigid   charms  of  an   ice-cream. 
The  union  of  pleasures  can  no  farther  go.     I  had 
almost  forgotten  to  mention  the  cathedral,  which 
stands  upon  the  platform.      I  did  not  find  much  to 
admire  in  it.    It  is  of  the  Gothic  architecture  of  the 
end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  is  not  very  re- 
markable any  way.     I  mounted  the  .steeple,  which 
is  almost  20(5  feet  high,  but  found  myself  scarcely 
rewarded    for   the    fatigue.      The   vi'ow   from    the  j 
-summit     is    soinewhat    more    extensive,   but    not  I 
more  beautiful  than  that  enjoyed  from  the  plat- 
form below. 


abundant  vegetable-market  than  I  saw  at  Berne. 
It  entirely  filled  the  street  for  a  space  little  short 
of  half  a  mile,  and  every  kind  of  vegetable  is  good 
and  cheap.      The  season  was  not  sufficiently  ad- 
vanced to  afford  a  great  variety  of  fruits  ;  but  the 
cherries  were  abundant  and  fine,  and  remarkably 
cheap.     In  the    butcher-market,    I   saw   excellent 
meat  of  every  kind,  and  also  in  great  abundance. 
Beef,  in   Berne,  averages  about  2|d.  per  lb.,  mut- 
ton 2d.,  veal  3d.     Butter  may  generally  be  pur- 
chased at  about  Gd. ;  fowls  Is.  3d.  a  pair  ;  eggs  at 
Ud.  per  dozen.    Bread  sells  at  1  ^d.  per  lb.    Berne, 
therefore,  is  a  cheap  place  of  residence,  and  would 
certainly  be  in  many  respects  an  agreeable   one. 
Houses,  however,  are  difficult  to  be  had,  and  are 
consequently  rather  dear  ;  but  I  noticed  a  consider- 
able number  of  new  half-built  houses  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  town,  from  which  we  may  infer, 
that  although  dear  at  present,  they  are  likely  to  be 
cheaper.     1  omitted  to  mention,  while  speaking  of 
the  price  of  provisions,  that  there  are  no  dues  of 
entry  into  the  town  of  Berne,  which  satisfactorily 
exi)Iains  the  reason  of  their  low  prices.     In  Berne, 
the   wages  of  servants  are  nearly  the  same  as  in 
England ;  but  in  the  country  thev  are  not  above 
one-half.     Horses  may  be  kept  for  very  little ;  and 
I  need  scarcely  say,  that  there  is  no  tax  either  upon 
hoi-ses  or  carriages.    There  is  a  tax  of  another  kind, 
which  exclusively  affects  strangers  :  it  is  a  direct 
tax  of  thirty  francs  per  annum  upon  the  head  of 
every  foreigner  resident  within  either  the  city  or 
any  part  of  the  Prefecture  of  Berne.     I  see  nothing 
unjust  in  tins  tax.     If  a  foreigner  selects,  for  his 
place  of  residence,  any  other  country  than  his  own, 
he  receives  the  protection  of  the  laws  of  the  country 
in   which   he  resides,  and  may  justly  be  asked  to 
contribute  towards  the  expense  of  those  establish- 
ments by  which   he  directly  benefits  ;  and  it   were 
perhaps  to  be  wished  that  other  countries  would 
follow   the  example  of  Berne,  and  thus  diminish 
those  temptations  whieh  lure  so  many  of  the  Eng- 
lish abroad.    This  would  be  better  than  a  tax  upon 
absentees.     If  sufficient  in  its  amount,  it  would 
answer  the  same  purpose,  and  would  prevent  the 
necessity  (for  to  a  necessity  it  very  nearly  amounts) 
of  laying  on  a  tax  which  might  be 'so  justly  objected 
to,  as  being  a  direct  tax  upon  personal  liberty. 

The  day  after  I  arrived  in  Berne  chanced*  to  be 
Sunday — the  best  of  all  days  for  seeing  and  judg- 
ing of  the  condition,  and  even  the  character,  of  the 
inhabitants — at  least  of  the  lower  classes.  During 
the  forenoon,  the  general  a.spect  of  things  was 
somewhat  trlsfe;  but  the  evening  brought  with  it 
the  gaiety  of  a  catholic  city  ;  and  I  do  not  recollect 
to  have  any  where  seen  a  better  dressed,  better  be- 
haved, or  seemingly  a  more  hapj»y,  jwpulation. 

The  members  of  the  diet  assembled  in  the  after- 
noon to  elect  a  president,  and  for  other  mattei-s  of 
form,  previous^to  the  public  ceremonial  of  the  fol 
lowinsi  da 


>iig  fJay.     There  was  no  procession  ;  thev  went 
Ihe  next  place  I  visited  was  the  market  ;  and,  in      singly,  each  on  foot,  in  full  black  dress,  with'sword 


going  towards  it,  1  could  not  but  again  remark  the 
spacious  streets  and  excellent  houses  of  the  Swiss 
metropolis.  I  do  not  recollect  many  streets  in 
England  superior  to  the  Gnnidf  liu<-  of  Berne.  The 
houses  are  lofty,  handsome,  and  built  of  stone  ;  the 
street  wide,  long,  and  adorned  with  many  fountains  ; 
and  an  arcade  runs  along  each  side,  oflering  shelter 
Irom  the  rain,  and  shade  from  the  sun.  I  never 
saw  any  where  (excepting  at  Thoulouse)  a  more 


and  cocked  hat,  and  preceded  by  his  official  in  his 
mantle.  A  small  guard  of  soldiers  was  drawn  up 
before  the  Hotel  de  Ville  ;  and,  as  each  deputy 
l)assed  by,  he  was  received  with  the  roll  of  a  druni, 
and  with  presented  arais.  A  good  many  people 
were  assembled  to  see  their  representatives  pass  by. 
Every  one  took  ofl"  his  hat,  but  indeed  it  would  have 
been  positive  rudeness  to  have  done  otherwise,  as 
the  deputies  themselves  walked  uncovered.     They 


'  I, 


\h 


42 


BERNE. 


[CHAP.  XIII. 


were  in  general  rcHpectablc-looking  men  ;  am!  were 
all  (lr<'srt»'(l  alike,  «'\ce|itiiig  two,  who  won-  hoot-^. 
I  sliuuld  lliiuk  shoes  and  silk  btockiii<^H  are  unkiiuwa 
in  some  of  the  cantons. 

In  the  evening  I  walked  into  the  environs. 
Passim;  throutih  one  of  tlie  gates,  I  remarked  an 
(»ld  tuwtr  and  a  colossal  statue  placed  in  a  niche. 
This  statue  is  eonnuonly  called  Goliath, but  in  former 
times  had  the  honour  of  being  a  saint,  and  even 
earned  the  reputation  of  performing  miracles.  He 
was  then  called  St.  Christo{)lie,  and  had  a  niche  in 
the  church  of  St.  Vincent ;  but  since  he  has  been 
placed  uj)ou  the  tower,  his  character  has  been 
changed  irom  a  saint  to  that  of  a  warrior.  He  has 
now  an  axe  over  liis  shoulder,  and  a  sword  in  liis 
hand.  1  had  almost  forgotten  to  say,  that  when 
St.  Christophe  occupied  his  original  place  in  the 
church,  his  situation  was  most  convenient  for  those 
who  desired  to  profit  by  his  miracle-working  power. 
It  was  only  necessary  to  })ass  between  his  iegs.  I 
noticed  also,  in  passing  along  the  streets,  several 
fountains  constructed  upon  strange  and  inexplicable 
designs.  Upon  ()no  of  them  is  a  statue  of  a  gigan- 
tic pereon,  whose  face  expresses  any  thing  but  can- 
nibalism, busily  employed  in  devouring  a  child.  I 
observed  in  the  fosse,  near  the  Port  d'Arberg,  some 
enormously  larijc^  bears — one  weighing,  as  I  was 
told,  oiii)  lbs.  lieai"s  are  more  a  propos  here  than 
any  where  else,  because  the  bear  is  the  arms  of 
the  city,  and  is  impressed  upon  the  coin  of  the 
canton. 

The  principal  object  of  my  walk  was  to  see  the 
preparations  for  the  Tirarfe  Federal.  The  Tira(^e 
Federal  may  be  called  a  national  institution.  Its 
object  is  to  keep  alive  a  martial  spirit  among  the 
people,  and  at  the  same  time  to  teach  expertness 
in  the  use  of  fire-arms.  This  assembly  is  held 
yearly,  and  takes  place  alternately  at  Berne,  Ge- 
neva, Aarau,  Basil,  and  Fribourg.  No  one  can 
enter  the  lists  who  has  not  resided  ten  yeai*s  in 
Switzerland ;  and  w  ith  this  single  restriction,  all 
are  permitted  to  try  their  skill.  The  prizes  distri- 
buted vary  from  100  to  1000  francs.  These  are 
l)artly  paid  ])y  grants  from  the  different  cantons, 
and  partly  from  the  fees  which  every  candidate 
pays  upon  entering  his  name.  The  fee  is  but  tri- 
fling— five  or  ten  francs  ;  but  I  forget  which. 

I  confess  I  did  not  exjx'ct  to  find  tlie  i)reparations 
for  this  fit,',  as  it  may  b*-  called,  so  extensive,  or 
so  much  importance  attached  to  it.  I  found  a 
woodtMi  l)uilding  erected  of  very  large  dimensions, 
rather  more  than  five  hundred  yards  long,  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  yards  wide,  and  the  roof  innuensely 
lofty.  This  building  is  divided  into  compartments, 
from  the  front  of  which  the  candidates  fire  ;  and  in 
the  middle  is  an  elevated  place  for  the  iudges. 
Opposite  to  this  building,  at  two  hinulred  yards 
distance,  are  placed  the  targets,  which  extend  in 
line  the  same  length  as  the  building ;  and  behind 
the  first-mentioned  building  is  another,  of  priH'isely 
similar  dimensions,  where  innumerable  tables  are 
laid  out,  and  benches  placed,  for  the  refreshment 
of  the  company.  I  found  the  field  covered  with 
people,  all  contemplating,  with  the  greatest  interest, 
the  preparations  for  this  favourite  national  trial  ; 
and,  in  a  meadow  at  a  little  distance  by  the  river- 
side, many  of  the  young  men  of  Berne  were  j)rac- 
tising  for  the  approaching  Tir,i</'  Federal.  One  of 
the  highest  prizes  in  this  tirage  is  looked  uj)0n  by 
the  young  men  of  Switzerland  as  an  object  of  the 


greatest  an  1  most  laudable  ambition.  The  best 
marksiiH  n  are  greatly  honoured  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood ;  and  as  all  those  who  gain  the  highest 
prizes  are  allowed  to  carry  away  the  targets  that 
prove  their  prowess,  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  these 
fixed  upon  the  peasiints'  houses,  in  various  parts  of 
Switzerland. 

I  returned  to  the  city  by  a  very  delightful  road, 
which  I  found  crowded  with  the  JBernois  and  I3er- 
nom'f  enjoying  their  Sunday  evening's  relaxation 
from  labour.  I  remarked  among  them  a  more 
equal  mixture  of  the  male  and  female  population, 
than  I  had  seen  in  the  other  Swiss  cities.  In  most 
of  the  Swiss  towns,  that  separation  which  exists 
between  the  sexes  among  the  upper  ranks,  extends 
also  to  the  lower  orders.  The  women  are  seen 
walking  in  groups,  and  so  are  the  men ;  but  in 
Berne  they  order  things  better.  I  observed,  as  in 
England,  lads  and  lasses  walking  together,  and 
talking,  laughing,  jesting,  and  frolicking  with  each 
other.  I  even  saw  here  and  there  a  j^air  of  sweet- 
hearts in  the  more  retired  walks.  All  this  is  as  it 
ought  to  be. 

In  entering  the  town,  I  passed  by  the  prison,  and 
took  the  opportunity  of  making  one  or  two  inquiries 
of  the  person  who  happened  to  be  standing  at  the 
door  of  the  concier(/e.  The  result  was  not  very  fa- 
vourable to  the  state  of  morals.  There  were  then 
almost  400  j)ei'sons  confined,  by  far  the  greater 
number  for  theft.  There  was  one  person  awaiting 
his  trial  for  wilful  fire-raising,  a  crime  which  is 
punished  upon  the  principle  of  strict  retributive 
justice.  They  who  are  proved  to  have  been  wilful 
incendiaries  are  burnt.  About  four  months  before 
I  visited  Switzerland,  an  incendiary  had  suffered 
this  punishment  at  Bienne.  The  prison  is  new,  re- 
markably handsome,  and  very  large  ;  but  I  fear 
not  too  large  for  the  demands  upon  it.  I  did  not 
visit  the  interior,  but  I  understand  its  regulations 
are  of  the  best  possible  kind. 

A  circumstance  occurred  at  supper,  at  the  table 
d'hote,  worth  relating.     Before  supper,  several  gen- 
tlemen stepped  into  the  room,  among  others  one 
Englisliman,     The  book  in  which  strangers  enter 
theu'  names  lay  open  upon  a  table,  and  the  English- 
man entered  his  name.      Several   i)ersons  looked 
into  the  book  in  passing,  among  others,  a  Russian 
gentleman   and  myself;  and  T  fnmid  the   English- 
man   had    put    iji    the    column    marked    Carartere, 
"  Homme  de  Lcttres.^*  We  i)laced  ourselves  at  table, 
and  it  so  happened  that  tlw  Russian  and  the  man 
of  letters  were  ])laced  opjxjsite  to  each  other.     The 
Jiussian   was  scarcely  seated   before   he   addressed 
the  Englishman  in  Oenuan  ;  but   it  being  evident 
that  he  was  not  undei-stood,  he  next  tried  Italian. 
Th(^  man  of  letters  knew  enough  of  Italian  to  distiji- 
guish  the  language  in  which  he  was  addressed  ;  and 
he  replied,  in  indifferent  French,  that  he  did  not  speak 
Italian.    The  Russian  now  concluded  that  he  had  at 
last  found  out  the  medium  of  comnnmication,  ami  he 
immediately  addressed  the  man  of  letters  in  French, 
))Ut   was    still    unsuccessful.      lit;  i-eplied,   ind«fd  ; 
but  after  a  few  more  attempts,  the  Russian  found 
that,  even  in  French,  he  hail  all   the   conversation 
to  himself  ;  and,  as  if  detennined  u{>on   following 
up  his  triumph,  he  then  addressed  the  gentleman  in 
tolerably  good  English,  saying,  he  was  always  glad 
to  meet  with  foreigners,  that   by  talking  t»»  them  in 
their  own  language,  he  might  improve  his   know- 
ledge of  it.   I  could  not  but  feel  for  my  countryman 


CHAP.  XIII.] 


BERNE. 


4'A 


all  this  while,  though  his  egregious  folly  in  taking  a 
title  of  so  much  pretension,  almost  removed  him 
beyond  the  pale  of  compassion.  He  might  possibly 
be  entitled  to  the  designation  of"  Homme  de  Lettres,'^ 
though  he  could  i^peak  no  language  but  his  own  ; 
but  it  was  extremely  unwise  to  designate  himself 
so,  unless  he  possessed  the  power  of  proving  his 
pretensions.  The  Russians  are  distinguished, 
beyond  the  natives  of  all  other  countries,  for  the 
facility  with  which  they  acquire  languages  ;  and  it 
was  certainly  a  remarkable  piece  of  ill-fortune,  that 
the  man  of  letters  should  have  fallen  so  inoppor- 
tunely into  the  hands  of  a  Russian. 

Next  morning,  I  was  awoke  at  an  early  hour  by 
the  commotion  in  the  street.  Bells  were  ringing, 
drums  were  beating,  and  carriages  rolling,  at  the 
early  hour  of  six  o'clock.  The  first  part  of  the 
ceremony  of  opening  the  diet,  consists  m  the  depu- 
ties assembling  at  church,  to  attend  divine  woi'ship. 
They  repaired  to  it  one  by  one,  the  same  as  the 
evening  before  ;  and  although  they  entered  the 
house  of  God,  honour  was  paid,  in  entering,  to  the 
representatives  of  the  people.  A  guard  was  drawn 
up  on  each  side  of  the  porch,  and  colom's  were 
lowered,  and  arms  presented,  as  each  deputy  passed 
by.  The  church  was  extremely  crowded  ;  but  I 
contrived  to  get  near  the  preacher,  who  delivered  a 
very  well-arranged,  very  long,  and  rather  energetic 
sermon,  upon  the  duties  of  representatives  and  law- 
givers. I  left  the  cathedral  before  the  ceremony 
was  concluded,  that  I  might  obtain  a  place  in  the 
other  church,  where  the  remainder  of  the  ceremo- 
nies was  to  tiike  place.  I  found  the  streets  lined 
with  a  very  motley  description  of  soldiei-s — some  in 
one  dress,  some  in  another,  and  some  without  any 
distinguishing  dress  at  all,  and  at  least  one-half  of 
the  whole  number  boys  of  from  twelve  to  sixteen 
yeai-s  old.  The  interior  of  the  church  was  very 
well  arranged.  All  the  pews  were  removed.  A 
large  table  was  placed  at  one  end  ;  and  four  rows 
of  green  velvet  chairs  occupied  all  the  centre,  ex- 
cepting where  a  passage  was  left  opposite  to  the 
table  ;  and  at  the  other  end  were  arranged  thirty 
or  forty  ro\\s  of  benches,  one  above  another,  as  in 
the  pit  of  a  theatre.  When  I  reached  the  church, 
these  were  entirely  filled  with  ladies  in  handsome 
morning  dresses  ;  but  thx-ee  benches  in  front  were 
vacant,  reserved  for  the  families  of  the  deputies, 
and  perhaps  some  of  the  privileged  aristoei'acy  of 
Berne.  Until  the  arrival  of  the  deputies,  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  scan  the  company  ;  and  after 
having  run  my  eye  over  the  thirty  or  forty  benches, 
1  was  constrained  to  say,  that  not  one  fine  counte- 
nance was  to  be  seen. 

After  several  general  officei-s,  dressed  in  splendid 
uniforms  and  covered  with  orders,  had  been  ushered 
in  by  the  othcer  in  waiting,  a  roll  of  a  drum  was 
heard  at  the  door,  and  every  one  thought  the  de- 
puties were  coming  ;  but,  behold  !  three  ladies 
entered— a  deputy's  wife  and  two  daughters — who 
took  their  seats,  with  an  air  of  extraordinary  im- 
portance, upon  tlie  chairs  reserved  for  the  j)rivi- 
leged  ;  and  so  they  well  might  ;  for  to  be  received 
with  military  honours,  is  a  disthiction  that  I  dare 
to  say  is  not  i-endered  to  ladies  hi  any  other  part  of 
the  world.  A  man  ami  his  wife  in  Berne  are  truly 
I  noticed  that  the  most  strict  regard  was  paid 


one 


to  i)recedence  ;  so  much  so,  that  two  ladies,  who 
had  been  improperly  placed,  were  obliged  to  leave 
their  seats,  to  make  way  for  othci's  who  possessed  a 


superior  right.  The  clergy  and  the  magistracy 
arrived  next  :  for  the  former,  two  rows  of  chairs 
had  been  prejiared  ;  and  the  protestant  clergy  were 
placed  hi  the  front  row,  the  catholic  behind.  *  It  so 
happened,  that  the  catholic  clergy  had  arrived  first, 
and  had  been  directed  to  occupy' the  seats  reserved 
for  the  protestant  clergy;  and  when  the  latter 
arrived,  the  catholic  clergy  were  politely  re<juested 
to  occupy  the  place  of  less  honour.  But  they  have 
their  days  of  honour  also.  The  rule  is,  that  prece- 
dence follows  the  religion  of  the  canton  in  which  the 
diet  is  held  ;  so  that,  when  the  supreme  council 
holds  its  sittings  at  Lucerne,  which  it  does  every 
fifth  and  sixth  year,  the  catholic  clergy  occupy 
"  the  chief  seats  in  the  synagogue."  This  is  quite 
fair.  At  length,  a  louder  roll  of  the  drum  than 
usual  announced  the  approach  of  the  dei)uties,  w  ho 
entered  at  a  slow  and  senatorial  pace,  preceded  bv 
the  twenty-two  officials  in  their  mantles  ;  and  until 
the  president  had  taken  his  place,  and  the  deputies 
were  seated,  every  one  stood,  and  a  solemn  anthem 
was  played  by  a  full  and  very  effective  band,  which 
was  placed  in  the  gallery.  The  deputies  were 
all  dressed  as  I  had  seen  them  before  ;  and  the  two 
who  wore  boots,  were  m  boots  still.  They  walked 
the  six  and  sixteenth,  and  were  therefore  the  de- 
puties of  Unterwalden  and  Tessin.  Among  the 
wives  of  the  deputies,  I  noticed  no  distinguishing 
peculiarity  in  dress.  The  ladies  from  Unterwalden 
and  Teesin  were  quite  as  much  d  la  mode  as  those 
from  Zurich  or  Geneva. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  president  had  taken 
his  seat,  he  rose,  and  addressed  the  assembly.  He 
spoke  of  the  greatness  of  the  occasion  upon  which 
they  were  met  ;  he  enlarged  upon  the  excellence  of 
the  constitution  ;  and  dwelt  upon  the  importance  of 
the  oath  which  the  membei-s  were  about  to  take  ; 
and,  after  a  well-delivered  speech,  which  occupied 
nearly  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  he  took  his  seat 
amid  a  flourish  of  trumpets  and  drums.  The  heads 
of  the  constitution  were  then  read,  and  the  mem- 
bers took  the  oath  to  maintain  it.  Another  anthem 
finished  the  ceremonies,  and  so  the  diet  was  opened. 
I  omitted  to  say,  that  the  church  was  hung  with 
tapestry,  rei)resenting  the  deeds  of  arms  by  which 
Helvetia  had  distinguished  herself  in  history. 

The  Swiss  diet,  like  the  legislative  bodies  of 
other  states,  has  its  friends  and  its  enemies,  its 
panegyrists  and  its  calumniatore  ;  and,  even  in 
Switzerland,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  political  party. 
Several  questions  of  very  great  importance  were 
expected  to  come  under  the  consideration  of  the  legis- 
lature ;  one,  a  i)roject  for  a  single  code  of  laws  for 
the  whole  federal  re})ublic  ;  another,  a  proposal  to 
assimilate  the  coins  of  the  different  cantons.  I  am 
confident,  from  what  I  have  observed  of  the  state  of 
public  oiiinion  in  the  different  states,  that  neither  of 
these  projects  will  ever  be  carried  into  effect.  If  the 
different  jurisdictions  in  the  country  of  the  Grisons 
were  so  much  opposed  to  one  code  of  laws,  even  for 
their  own  canton,  how  is  it  to  be  expected  that  the 
twenty-two  cantons — differing  from  each  other  in 
intelligence,  in  religion,  in  political  constitution — 
should  accept  a  project,  the  object  of  which  is  to 
narrow  the  distinction  that  now  exists  among  them  ? 
It  is  only  a  feeling  of  political  expediency  that  holds 
the  republic  together.  Each  canton  looks  upon 
itself  as  a  distuict  state,  and  is  proud  of  all  that 
distinguishes  it  from  its  neighbours.  I  fear,  there- 
fore, that  the  Swiss  repubhc  will  continue  to  feel 


'A 


•»5 


•1 


44 


BERNE. 


[chap.  XIV. 


those  disadvantages  which  are  insepaniblc  from  a 
union  of  states  (however  inconsidt-rable),  whose  in- 
terests are,  in  sonu>  resjjccts,  opjxiscd  to  eaeli 
other,  and  in  wliich  knowledge  and  civiiizatiuu 
liave  not  made  e(iual  progress. 

I  intended  to  have  gone,  the  day  after  the  diet 
opened,  to  visit  the  lake  of  Bienne,  but  the  badness 
of  the  morning  prevtMitod  nu;  ;  and  the  weather 
continued  so  unsettled  during  the  greater  part  of  a 
week,  that  I  still  contumed  to  make  Berne  my 
head-quarters. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

BERNE — ST.  Peter's  isle — hofwyl. 

Reasons  for  preferring  Berne  as  a  Residence — Society  of 
Berne — Public  Establishments — Excursion  to  the  Lake  of 
Bienne  and  Rousseau's  Isle — Aarberg — The  Lake — Cha- 
racter of  St.  Peter's  Isle— Reflections— Return  to  Berne- 
Excursion  to  Hofwyl — Details  respecting  the  Establish- 
ment— Canton  of  Berne. 

If  I  were  to  make  choice  of  a  Swiss  city  for  a  resi- 
dence, it  should  certainly  be  Berne  ;  chiefly  because 
I  prefer  the  character  of  the  inhabitants,  and  the 
usages  of  the  city,  to  the  character  and  usages  of 
other  towns,  an<i  partly  because  I  like  its  situa- 
tion better.  In  the  latter  ground  of  i)reference,  I 
may  probably  not  tind  many  to  agree  with  me.  It 
is  true,  that  Berne  will  not  vie  with  Zurich  in  the 
variety  of  scenery  that  surrounds  it.  It  cannot  be 
compared  with  Lucerne,  in  proximity  to  the  Alps, 
and  in  the  charm  of  lake  prospects  ;  nor  can  it 
boast  so  fertile  a  country,  or  so  noble  a  river,  as 
Basil.  But  upon  the  principle,  that  the  human 
mind  dclij/hts  in  varietv,  and  that  tlu^  scenery  which 
we  see  constantly  around  us  nmst  lose,  in  time, 
a  part  of  its  charm,  nothing  is,  perhaps,  lost  to  en- 
joyment, by  being  a  little  removed  from  those  scenes 
which  are  ca]»altle  of  bestowing  it.  But  although 
the  neighbourhood  of  Berne  has  not,  like  Lucerne 
and  Zurich,  its  lake  and  mountains,  nor  another 
Rhine,  like  Basil,  it  has  attractions  of  a  diflerent 
kind.  Mountains  have  their  mists  and  their  rains, 
and  lakes  have  their  exhalations.  Berne  has  a  pure 
dry  air,  and  a  more  eijuablo  temperature,  than  the 
other  Swiss  cities  ;  and  the  lover  of  nature  and  of 
mankind  will  find  around  Berne,  that  pleasing  imion 
of  animated  with  inanimate  nature — that  mixture 
of  busy  life  and  inert  matter,  ajul  even  that  variety 
of  natural  scenerv — which  are  altojjether  a  more 
permanent  source  of  enjoyment  than  more  sublime 
and  less  animated  pictures. 

y\s  a  city,  Berne  is  greatly  superior  to  Basil, 
Lucerne,  or  Geneva.  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  walk 
in  wide  airy  streets,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  have 
the  advantage  of  shade  and  slulter,  if  required. 
Where  there  are  arcades,  one  may  always  choose 
between  bustle  and  tjuiet — bustle  under  the  arcades 
— quiet  in  the  centre  of  the  street  ;  and  in  the 
(Kjrtnwns  of  a  city,  Berne  has  decidedly  the  advan- 
tage of  its  rivals.  And  this  leads  me  to  say  a  few 
words  respecting  the  character  of  the  inhabitants, 
and  the  niixies  of  life.  These  are  far  less  triste  than 
in  Zurich  or  Basil.  In  Berne,  there  is  a  more  un- 
restrained intercourse  among  the  inhabitants  ;  and 
we  do  not  tind  there,  as  in  most  parts  of  Switzer- 
land, sei)arate  reunh)t»i  of  men  and  women.  There 
is  much  of  French  gaiety,  but  little  of  the  licen- 


tiousness  which   sometimes  attends  it  ;    and  this 
gaiety  is  at  the  same   time  finely  tempered   by  a 
portion  of  that  sentiment  and    enthusiasm  which 
i)elong  to  the  German  character.      It  is  true,  that 
the  principle  of  exclusiveness  is  not  forgotten  in 
the  society  of  Berne.     The  aristocracy  is  proud  to 
a  certain  extent,  and  guarded  in  its  intercourse  ; 
but  the  rights  of  the  aristocracy  are  so  well  de- 
fined, that,  to  enforce  them,  produces  none  of  those 
heart-burnings  and  envyings  that  so  often  result, 
in  other  countries,  from  distinction  in  (jrade.     The 
assumption  of  certain  privileges,  and  the  exclusive- 
ness to  which  these  give  rise,  may  seem  excessively 
absurd — above  all,  in  a  republic  ;  but  it  does  not 
at  all  intei-fere  with  the  amicable  intercourse  of  the 
inhabitants  ;  nor  can  the  exclusiveness  of  the  patri- 
cian society  of  Berne  diminish  in  any  degree  the 
comfort  of  strangei-s.     A  stranger  has  his  grade  in 
his  own  country  ;  and  he  has  no  right  to  expect, 
tliat,  in  visiting  a  foreign  country,  he  will  step  out 
of  it.     If  his  rank  at  home  be  such  as  entitles  him 
to  enter  the  patrician  society  of  Berne,  he  will  find 
no  difficulty  in  being  admitted  into  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  he  belong  to  the  middle  ranks  of  his  own 
country,  he  must  be  contented  with  the  same  rank 
in  Berne. 

Berne,  too,  possesses  all  those  public  establish- 
ments which  render  a  place  agreeable  as  a  resi- 
dence, it  has  excellent  lil)raries — excellent  aca- 
demies— delightful  promenades — convenient  and 
well-ordered  baths  ;  a  theatre,  concerts  and  balls, 
during  winter  ;  clever  lectures  upon  most  of  the 
sciences  ;  eloquent  and  pious  clergymen  of  almost 
every  denomination  ;  and  to  this  list  may  be  added, 
abundance  of  shops  where  all  that  contributes 
either  to  comfort  or  luxury  may  be  found.  The 
French  lancruai^e  is  genemlly  understood  among 
the  well-educatetl.  The  higher  the  class  in  which 
you  mix,  the  more  you  will  find  it  spoken.  At  the 
same  time,  a  knowledge  of  German  will  be  highly 
advantageous  to  a  resident  in  Berne,  because  it  is 
almost  c^\clusively  the  language  of  the  people. 

Dm'ing  my  residence  in  ikrne,  1  repeated  my 
visits  to  the  diflerent  places  which  I  had  before 
glanced  at.  I  never  passed  through  the  market 
without  receiving  new  gratiflcation,  though  mingled 
with  some  painful  reflections.  Tht;  healthy  and 
robust  appearance  of  the  country-peoj)le,  well 
clothed  and  evidentlv  well  fed — busv,  and  seem- 
iu'dv  cont(>nted — could  not  but  recall  to  inv  mmd 
the  half-starved  ]»o[)ulation  of  the  grtat  manufac- 
turing cities  of  En<^land  and  France,  and  almost 
begot  a  dou])t  in  my  mind  whetlu-r  England  be  in 
reality  the  happi(\st  country  in  the  worhl. 

I  also  visited  every  part  of  the  environs,  parti- 
cularly one  promenade,  called  VKthjif,  whose  only 
fault  is,  that  it  lies  about  a  mile  from  the  city.  It 
is  a  most  charming  walk,  b(>autiful  on  every  side, 
and  commanding  a  vast  anq»hitheatre,  the  sublime 
s]>ectacle  of  the  highest  range  of  alps.  The 
Schreekhorn,  the  Monk,  the  Silver-horn,  the  Wet- 
ter-horn, the  Jungfrau,  and  Mount  Eiger,  occupy 
the  centre  of  the  range — names  that  one  has  heard 
a  hundred  time-s,  and  that  are  associated  in  the 
mind  with  all  that  is  sublime  in  the  natural  world. 
I  always  found  that  promenade  crowdi-d,  es])ecially 
in  the  evenin«r.  It  is  the  favourite  rendezvous  of 
the  Bernois,  and,  like  the  platform  of  the  cathedral, 
it  aff'ords  a  union  of  pleasures. 

A  second  visit  to  the  cathedral  showed  me  the 


CHAP.  XiV.] 


BERNE. 


45 


Last  Judgment,  carved  in  wood  above  the  gate — a 
work  reflecting  credit  u})on  the  age  in  which  it  was 
executed.  A  model  of  the  tower,  not  as  it  is,  but 
as  it  was  once  intended  to  be,  was  shown  to  me. 
The  reason  why  it  was  not  completed  according  to 
the  original  model,  is  said  to  have  been  owing  to 
the  insecurity  of  tlie  foundation. 

Having  entirely  satisfied  my  curiosity  at  Berne, 
and  the  weather  having  cleared  uj),  I  left  it  at  day- 
break in  a  cabriolet,  to  visit  the  Lake  of  Bienne, 
and  the  Isle  of  St.  Peter,  commonly  called  Rous- 
.seau's  Isle.  In  every  direction  around  Berne, 
proofs  are  abundant  of  the  great  industry  of  the 
Bernoise  peasantry,  and  of  the  easy  and  comfort- 
able condition  in  which  they  live.  I  every  where 
saw  a  fertile  soil  about  to  rej>ay  well  the  toil  of  the 
labourer.  Every  cottage  appeared  substantial  ;  and 
the  little  garden  attached  to  it,  carefully  dressed 
and  neatly  arranged.  But  one  has  not  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing,  in  passing  through  this  canton, 
that  the  labourer  is  lord  of  the  soil  he  works,  and 
that  every  seed  he  throws  into  the  earth  will  return 
its  produce  into  his  own  granary.  Much  of  the  land 
in  the  central  parts  of  this  canton,  and  especially  m 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  capital,  belongs  to  large 
proprietors — so  large  at  least,  that  the  land  is  la- 
itoured  by  hired  servants  ;  but  the  condition  of 
every  order  of  society  in  most  parts  of  Sw  itzerland, 
leaves  little  for  the  philanthropist  to  desire.  As 
one  proof  that  not  a  foot  of  ground  is  lost,  I  may 
mention,  that  I  passed  several  dunghills,  upon 
which  tliere  grew  a  luxuriant  croj)  of  salad  and 
cabbages.  It  may  also  be  worth  wliile  to  say,  that 
these  dunghills  are  formed  with  as  much  nicety  as 
hay-stacks  in  other  countries.  They  are  square, 
level  on  the  top,  thatched  round  with  straw,  and, 
unless  where  they  are  put  to  the  use  of  gardens, 
covered  at  the  top. 

I  breakfasted  at  Aarberg,  a  clean  little  town 
built  upon  the  banks  of  the  Aar,  which  almost  sur- 
rounds it.  Soon  after  leaving  Aarberg,  I  reached  a 
spot  where  formerly  stood  a  village  of  twenty-eight 
houses,  which  were  all  destroyed  a  few  years  ago  in 
a  conflagration  raised  by  an  inceJidiary.  The  rea- 
son of  this  act  is  said  to  have  been  ill-will,  conceived 
against  the  diff'erent  shopkeepers  and  other  persons, 
who  refused  to  give  him  credit.  The  common  law 
of  Switzerland  against  incendiaries  was  disaj)pointed 
in  this  instance.  The  incendiary,  being  pursued, 
crept  into  a  drain,  where  he  was  suffocated.  A 
small  monument  is  erected  upon  the  spot  where  his 
house  stood,  setting  forth  the  crime  of  its  owner, 
and  forbidding  that  any  other  dwelling  shall  be 
erected  upon  the  same  spot.  Three  hours  more 
brought  me  to  the  height  above  the  Lake  of  Bienne  ; 
and  from  this  spot  the  view  also  embraces  the  Lake 
of  Neufchatel,  and  the  whole  range  of  the  Jura 
mountains.  The  view  of  the  Lake  of  Bienne  is  not 
striking — scarcely  beautiful  or  picturesque.  It  is 
merely  pleasing  ; — mountains  of  the  fourth  or  fifth 
order,  covered  with  wood,  and  vines,  and  meadows, 
surround  it,  and  several  villages  are  scattered  at 
their  feet.  The  chief  attraction  of  the  spot  lies  in 
the  Isle  of  St.  Pierre,  and  the  recollections  it  recalls 
of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. 

I  hired  a  boat  at  the  little  village  nearest  to  the 
island,  and  Sf)on  approached  its  bank  ;  but,  before 
landing,  I  made  the  circuit  of  it — a  voyage  of  only 
a  mile  and  a  half  ;  and,  although  in  first  looking 
down  upon  the  Lake  of  Bienne,  I  had  thought  that 


Rousseau  might  have  chosen  a  more  select  retreat, 
1  was  no  longer  of  this  opinion  in  sailing  round  the 
island  of  his  choice.  Nothing  can  be  more  varied,  or 
of  a  sweeter  or  gentler  character,  than  the  scenery 
of  this  little  spot.  Steep  rocks,  sloping  meadows, 
vines,  and  groves  and  thickets,  are  passed  by  in 
succession  ;  and  the  water  being  absolutely  without 
a  ripple,  the  boat  glided  all  the  way  above  the  grass 
and  groves  reflected  beneath.  I  landed  close  to 
the  house  which  Rousseau  had  once  inhabited,  and 
where  he  vainly  fancied  he  had  at  last  found  rei>ose 
from  the  real  and  imagined  persecutions  of  man- 
kind. The  house  is  now  used  as  an  \m\.  and  the 
room  is  of  course  shown,  where  the  "  self-torturing 
sophist"  was  wont  to  muse  on  the  ingratitude  of  his 
species,  and  to  congratulate  himself  upon  having 
escaped  from  the  toils  of  his  enemies,  and  the  in- 
trusions of  the  impertinent. 

I  walked  over  every  foot  of  the  island  ;  and  I 
trust  it  will  not  be  called  misplaced  enthusiasm,  if  I 
confess,  that  the  recollections  to  which  the  scene 
gave  birth  were  mingled  with  some  tenderness  for 
the  memoiy  of  the  man  who  had  there  dreamed 
away  half  a  lifetime.  Rousseau  was  in  reality  a 
greater,  and  perhaps  a  better  man  than  his  more 
fortunate  rival  ;  and  although  he  has  left  behmd 
him  less  voluminous  records  of  his  labours  than 
Voltaire,  this  perhaps  is  only  one  proof  of  his 
greater  genius.  The  errors  of  Rousseau  are  the 
errors  of  an  excited  imagination.  He  believed  that  he 
promulgated  truths  ;  but  Voltaire,  when  he  deluged 
the  world  with  his  sophistry,  smiled  all  the  while  at 
the  credulity  of  mankind.  I  cannot  help  thinking, 
that  the  philosophical  works  of  Rousseau  are  less 
esteemed  than  they  deserve  ;  for  although  the  Emi- 
lius  is  founded  upon  a  dubious  principle,  yet  it 
teaches  many  important  truths,  and  even  contains 
within  it  some  beautiful  and  highly  moral  lessons. 

In  wandering  over  the  narrow  limits  of  St. 
Peter's  Isle,  one  cannot  but  compassionate  the  con- 
dition of  the  man,  whose  morbid  state  of  mind  drove 
him  into  exile  ;  and  yet  it  would  perhaps  be  wiser 
to  give  credence  to  his  own  assertion,  that  the  yeai's 
which  he  spent  in  this  secluded  spot  were  the  hap- 
piest of  his  life.  Here  he  felt  himself  separated 
from  that  world,  which  he  believed  to  be  united  in 
a  league  against  him  ;  and  here  doubtless  he  re- 
velled in  those  day-dreams,  which,  to  a  mind  consti- 
tuted like  Rousseau's,  were  happiness.  I  returned 
to  the  house  to  dinner,  which  consisted  entirely  of 
country  fare,  w  ith  neither  kid  nor  fish  added  to  it  ; 
and  in  the  evening  I  passed  over  to  the  village,  and 
from  thence  to  Bienne,  where  I  spent  the  night  in 
a  verv  excellent  hm,  called  La  Conronrve.  There  is 
nothing  very  remarkalde  about  Bienne.  It  is  a 
pretty  clean  little  town,  lying  near  the  lake,  and  at 
the  foot  of  the  Jura  mountains  ;  and  would  not  per- 
haps be  much  visited  by  the  traveller,  if  it  did  not 
lie  so  near  to  the  scenes  which  are  consecrated  to 
the  memory  of  Rousseau.  Next  day  I  returned  to 
Berne  by  the  same  road. 

One  other  spot  remained  to  be  visited  ;  and  to 
this  I  dedicated  the  day  before  I  left  Berne  for  the 
Oberland — I  mean  the  well-known  establishment  of 
M.  de  Fellenberg,  at  Hofwyl. 

Before  saying  a  word  respecting  the  system  of 
education  pureued  at  Hofwyl,  or  recording  my  own 
personal  observations,  I  think  it  best  to  state  what 
were  the  views  and  objects  of  M.  de  Fellenberg  in 
founding  this  institution  ;  and  I  cannot  do  this  more 


4G 


BERNE. 


[chap.  XIV. 


satisfactorily  than  in  the  words  of  a  report  pre- 
sented by  the  comte  de  Capo-d'Istria  to  the  em- 
peror Alexander.  It  runs  thus  : — "  M  de  Fellen- 
berg  a  acquis  aa  premiere  reputation  comnie 
agronome  ;  mais  son  agriculture,  et  tout  le  ma- 
teriel de  ses  e'tablissemens  ((ui  s'y  rapportent, 
appartiennent  au  grand  objet  de  ses  travaux  et  de 
ses  esperances,  savoir  Ptdnc'itioHy  dans  Ic  sens  Ic 
plus  eteiidu  qu'on  puisse  donner  a  ce  mot. 

"  Doue  d'une  ame  active,  et  d'un  esprit  reflcfchi, 
M.  de  Fellenberg  partageait  rin([uietude  de  tons  le 
penseurs  sur  les  circonstances  ge'nerales,  qui,  au 
commencement  de  ce  siecle,  mena^aient  les  peuples 
du  continent.  Pere  de  deux  fils  en  has  age,  ami  do 
Thumanite,  citoyen  d(5voue  a  son  pays,  il  conside'i-ait 
avec  effroi  la  situation  morale  et  politi«iue  do  I'P^u- 
rope,  et  I'avenir  (jui  se  prcparait  pour  ses  enfans  et 
sa  patrie.  En  retlechissant  sur  Tetat  de  la  societc?, 
il  la  voyait  menacee  de  la  dissolution  de  ses  t^lemens, 
par  I'ouhli  de  la  religion  et  le  mepris  de  la  morale  ; 
par  I'inHucnce  du  despotisme  sur  les  caracteres  ; 
par  I'egoisme  et  lasonsualite'  des  riches  ;  par  Tigno- 
rance  et  les  vices  grossicrs  des  pauvres  ;  par  un 
effet  naturel  des  longues  agitations  politicpies,  et  de 
longues  Houffrances  qui  lorsqu'ellcs  ont  abouti  a  la 
tyrannic  ne  laissent  (]ue  decuuragement  et  lassitude, 
et  persuadent  aux  faibles,  que  la  vertu  nVst  qu'une 
chimere,  connne  le  furent  leurs  esperances. 

"  Le  va'U  d'une  re'forme  fondanieiitale  dans  les 
principes  et  les  mcrurs,  t'tait  certcs,  bien  naturel 
dans  de  telles  circonstances  ;  iiiais  comment  le  for- 
mer avec  quel({ue  espoir  de  succes  ?  Connnent  un 
individu  faible,  isole',  pouvait-il  songer  a  preparer, 
encore  moijis  a  realiser,  une  telle  revolution,  memo 
dans  I'enceinte  reserree  d'un  cantcm  de  i'llelvt-rie  I 
M.  de  Fellenberg  n'en  desespera  pas.  II  pensa(iue 
les  adoucissemens,  et  les  remcdes  aux  maux  de 
I'etat  social,  devaient  se  trouver  dans  une  education 
appropriee  aux  besoins  du  temps,  et  a  la  destina- 
tion ge'ncrale  de  chacune  des  elasses  de  la  societe. 
II  re'solut  d'essayer,  dans  rechelle  de  ses  moyens,  de 
creer  un  etablissemeut  (jui  put  servir  d'exemple, 
d'acheminement,  et  de  noyau  a  d'autrcs  e'tablisse- 
mens du  meme  genre,  dans  U-squels  on  pourrait 
profiterde  son  experience,  cviter  ses  erreui-s,  per- 
fectionner  ses  moyens  de  succes,  etencb-e  enfin,  d<- 
prochc  en  proehe,  sur  son  canton,  sur  touto  la  Suisse 
peut-etre,  le  bienfait  d'un<'  education  regeneratrice 
des  mcx'Ui-s  et  des  caracteres. 

"  TelU'  fut  son  idee  fondameutale--tels  furent 
ses  V(i'ux  et  ses  esperances.  II  tit  de  ragriculture 
la  base  de  son  entreprise.  Dans  tons  les  pays  eeile 
occupe  la  grande  pluralitt^  de  la  population  ;  par- 
tout  elle  est  en  objet  d'interet,  d  amusement,  ou  de 
spe'culation  ;  partout  il  importe  de  la  iterfectionner, 
et  de  I'ennoblir.  Mais  M.  de  Fellenberg  considera 
surtout  Pagnculture  sous  un  point  de  vue  }>hiloso- 
phique  et  nouveau,  c'est-a-dire  comme  fournissjint, 
dans  son  ^tude  et  sa  pratique,  de  grands  moyens  de 
d^veloppement  des  facultes  humaines." 

The  natural  in(iuiry  is,  has  M.  de  Fellenberg's 
project  been  successful  t  If  the  traveller  visit  the 
establishment  at  Hofwyl,  as  he  would  any  oth<r 
curious  object,  he  will  be  delighted— he  wiH  in  all 
probability  say,  that  he  has  never  seen  any  thing 
more  interesting  ;  and  at  every  step,  while  he  finds 
new  claims  upon  his  admiration,  he  will  see  new 
cause  to  commend  the  excellent  desi<jn  of  the 
founder,  and  to  laud  his  kind-heartedness.  But  if 
Hofwyl  be  visited  with  dilierent  views — if  it  be  re- 


garded as  a  great  moral  ex]>eriment,  capable,  by  its 
result,  of  intluoneing  the  happiness  of  mankind,  a 
more  guarded  approbation  will  probably  be  the  re- 
sult. But  I  will  proct^ed  to  detail  shortlv  all  that 
came  under  my  o\\  n  observation. 

Hofwyl  seems  like  a  beautiful  little  town  as  you 
approach  it  ;  and  yet  it  consists  entirely  of  the 
buildings  belonging  to  the  establishment,  and  which 
have  been  constructed,  one  after  another,  as  the 
views  of  M.  de  Fellenberg  extended,  or  as  pu])lic 
aid  enabled  him  to  carry  them  into  effect.  I  found 
an  intelligent  young  man  to  carry  me  over  every 
part  of  the  esta))lishment  ;  and  I  will  readily  admit 
that  I  was  delighted  with  every  thing,  because 
I  looked  upon  the  whole  as  the  pastime  of  an 
amiable  philosopher.  At  Hofwyl,  there  are  three 
cla.sses  of  students  : — tlie  pensionnaires  of  the  first 
class,  who  are  all  gentlemen's  sons,  and  who  pav  a 
handsome  sum  for  board  and  instruction  ;  the  se- 
cond, or  middle  class,  composed  of  persons  who  pay 
less,  l)ut  whose  education  is  in  no  respect  different 
from  the  other  class  ;  and  the  third  class,  whose 
education  is  gratuitous,  and  whose  labour  is  consi- 
dered an  e(iuivalent  for  tlieir  board.  When  I 
visited  Hofwyl,  there  were  about  100  pensionnaires 
of  the  tii-st  class,  thirtv  of  the  second  class,  and 
nmety  of  the  third  class.  The  last  class  was  com- 
posed of  Swiss  exclusively  ;  the  middle  class  almost 
entirely  of  Swiss  ;  and  the  first  class  of  (iermans, 
English,  Russians,  French,  and  Swiss,  In  this  class 
there  was  one  Spaniard.  The  instruments  of  educa- 
tion employed  by  M.  de  Fellenberg  are  various,  and 
at  first  sight  seem  somewhat  heterogeneous.  There 
is,  1.  A  farm,  destined  to  serve  as  a  model  of  a<rri- 
culture  ;  2.  An  experimental  farm,  or  land  upon 
which  agricultural  exj)erimentsare  tried  ;  3.  A  nuv- 
nufactory  or  workshop  for  the  construction  and  i)er- 
fection  of  agricultural  implements  ;  4.  A  workshop 
for  the  manufiicture  of  all  instruments  used  in  hus- 
bandry. Thest^  two  latter  may  appear  to  be  the  same, 
but  this  is  not  the  case  ;  the  last  is  intended  for  the 
construction  of  all  necessary  agricultural  imple- 
ments, and  comprises  the  workshop  of  the  cartwright, 
the  joiner,  the  turner,  the  blacksmith,  the  harness- 
maker,  S.C.  The  former  is  destined  for  attempts  at 
improvement  in  agricultural  implements  ;  and  there 
are  seen  various  kinds  of  ploughs  ;  new  machines 
tor  chopping  hay  and  i)eas-straw  ;  and  three  or  four 
different  kinds  of  machines —  (all  of  late  invention, 
and  improvements  upon  each  other) — for  sowing 
grain  and  seed  of  every  kind,  an  operation  never 
performed  at  Hofwyl  l)y  hand-labour  ;  5,  and  G.  A 
species  of  college,  in  one  division  of  which  all  the 
branches  of  knowledge  and  polite  education  are 
taught,  and  in  another  all  that  beai-s  directly  ui)on 
agriculture. 

The  education  of  the  poor  compris(>s  all  that  M.  de 
Fellenberg  considers  useful.  It  includes  reading, 
writing,  arithmetic,  a  little  grammar,  a  little  geo- 
metry ;  a  few  facts  in  natural  history  ;  the  history 
of  their  own  country  ;  drawing,  singing,  and  moral 
lessons.  M.  de  Fellenberg  considei-s  nmsie  to  be 
an  important  auxiliary  in  education.  To  use  his 
ow  n  words — "  precious,  as  softening  the  character, 
and  calming  the  passions ;  fortifying  the  love  of 
order  and  of  tlie  beautiful ;  strengthening  the  bonds 
that  attach  man  to  his  countrv,and  misiuii  his  ima- 
gmation  and  his  wishes  towards  Heaven."  But  all 
these  branches  of  education  are  made  subservient 
to  agricultural  education.     The  manual  labour  upon 


CHAP.  XV.] 


THE  OBERLAND  BERNOIS. 


47 


the  farms  is  j)erformed  by  this  class  chiefly.  It  is 
thus  they  gain  their  bread  and  their  knowledge  in 
labouring  for  them  ;  and  besides  agricultural  edu- 
cation, every  one  belonging  to  this  class  is  taught 
some  trade — either  those  directly  connected  with 
agriculture,  as  wheelwrights,  blacksmiths,  &c. — or 
any  other  handicraft  ;  for  the  establishment  com- 
jtrehends  the  work-',.()m  of  the  shoemaker,  the 
tailor,  &c.,  who  all  labour  for  the  establishment. 

The  education  of  the  higher  classes  is  of  a  differ- 
ent description.  The  theory  and  practice  of  agri- 
culture form  a  ])art  of  their  education  also  ;  but  in 
the  school,  there  are  teachei's  of  every  description 
of  knowledge',  comprising  natural  philosojthy,  ma- 
thematics, chemistry,  the  languages,  ancient  and 
modern  history,  geography,  natural  history,  botany, 
and  a  course  upon  religion  and  morals.  As  relax- 
ations from  this,  there  are  music,  painting,  the 
gymnastic  exercises,  gardening,  and  the  more 
elegant  ])arts  of  mechanics  ;  and  to  assist  in  these 
relaxations,  the  establishment  comj)rises  music- 
rooms,  containing  every  kind  of  musical  instru- 
ments ;  models  for  j)ainting  ;  fire-arms,  bows  and 
arrows  ;  small  gardens  aj>propriated  to  individuals  ; 
and  work-rooms  with  im])lements  for  turning,  &c. 

As  tlu!  formation  of  the  moral  character  is  one 
important  object  in  the  view  of  M.  de  Fellenberg, 
this  lias  led  to  a  departure  from  the  ordinary  sys- 
tem j)ursued  in  schools  ;  for,  wisely  judging,  that 
emulation,  pushed  too  far,  engenders  unamiable 
feelings,  all  the  usual  means  of  encouragement  are 
rejected.  There  is  neither  first  nor  last — no  prizes 
— no  medals — no  humiliating  })unishments.  A  well- 
timed  and  gentle  reproof,  or  an  acknowledgment  of 
duties  fulfilled,  supply  the  places  of  premiums  and 
disgi-ace. 

The  establishment  of  Hofwyl  is  complete  in  all  its 
parts.  All  that  is  consumed  is  produced  upon  the 
farms.  In  the  l)yres  I  found  thirty  oxen  and  sixty 
cows,  all  in  the  most  excellent  condition.  There 
were  also  twenty  liorses  of  the  Mecklenburg  breed, 
for  the  use  of  the  farais,  M,  de  Fellenberg  makes 
much  use  of  peas-straw  for  horses'  food,  and  of 
l)otato-parings  for  cows.  These  I  saw  the  cows  eat 
very  greedily  ;  and,  judging  from  the  quality  of 
the  milk,  which  I  tasted,  as  well  as  from  its  quan- 
tity, which  was  very  great,  I  could  not  avoid  the 
conclusion,  that  cows  thrive  upon  this  aliment,  I 
could  easily  fill  several  pages  w  ith  a  description  of 
the  various  dependencies  of  the  establishment — the 
bake-house,  the  butchery,  the  dairy,  &:c,  6ce.  ;  but 
it  is  enough  to  say,  that  all  these  are  faultless, 
and  that  there  seems  nothing  wanting  to  render  the 
establishment  comj)lete. 

M.  de  Fellenberg  has  l)een  as  successful  as  any 
reasonable  ])erson  believed  to  be  possible.  Hi's 
establishment  affords  a  beautiful  example  of  how- 
much  may  be  accomplished  by  the  union  of  pei'se- 
verance  with  enthusiasm,  when  these  are  directed 
towards  an  ol)ject  not  too  extensive  for  the  surreil- 
lonce  of  one  mind  ;  but  even  if  this  example  were 
thought  sufficient  to  warrant  any  plan  for  the  ex- 
tension of  the  principle,  and  for  the  formation  of 
f^iniilar  establishments,  the  proposal  must  be  at 
oriee  met  by  the  (juestion,  "  Have  you  other  twenty 
M.  de  Fellenbergs  i  "  The  whole  success  of  an  ex- 
jteriment  of  this  kind  depends  upon  the  presiding 
genius.  Esta})lishments,  such  as  those  of  Hofwyl, 
"r  New  Lanark,  called  into  existence  by  the  union 
"f  philanthroj)y  and  enthusiasm,  depend  for  their 


continuance  upon  the  life  of  the  architect.  It 
is  probable  that  there  are  not  other  twenty  M. 
de  Fellenbergs  in  the  whole  world  ;  and  if  so,  it  is 
idle  to  speak  of  the  establishment  as  a  thing  which 
can  at  all  influence  the  general  and  permanent  hap- 
piness of  mankind. 

It  is  perhaps  scarcely  fair  to  consider  the  opinion 
of  M.  de  Fellenberg's  neighbours,  the  Bernois,  as 
any  evidence  against  liis  system  ;  but  it  is  right  to 
state  the  fact,  that  scarcely  any  of  the  pension- 
naries  at  Hofwyl  are  from  the  neighbouring  city  of 
lierne,  and  that  the  opinion  of  the  inhabitants  is 
decidedly  unfavourable  to  the  establishment.  They 
say  the  education  is  superficial  ;  that  too  much  is 
attemi)ted  ;  that  no  one  who  has  been  instructed  at 
Hofwyl  has  risen  to  eminence  in  any  department  ; 
and  that  M.  de  Fellenberg  is  so  much  of  a  despot 
within  his  own  establishment,  that  professors  and 
teachers  will  not  remain  ;  and  that  the  frequent 
change  in  instructors  operates  injuriously  upon  the 
progress  of  the  pupils.  Of  the  truth  of  these 
charges  I  have  no  way  of  judging.  I  state  simply 
w  hat  I  heard  many  times  in  Berne. 

Berne  is  the  largest  and  the  most  populous  of  the 
Swiss  cantons,  and  perhaps  also  the  richest,  though 
Zurich  might  possi]>ly  dispute  this  claim.  The  great- 
est land-owners  of  Switzerland  reside  in  this  canton  ; 
and  for  this  reason  it  contains  the  greatest  number 
of  poor.  The  number  receiving  pubhc  relief  is 
stated  at  upwards  of  20,000,  being  one  in  every 
seventeen,  if  the  population  be  reckoned  at  340,000. 
The  constitution  of  Berne  is  oligarchical — certainlv 
the  worst  of  all  the  forms  of  government  ;  and 
from  all  that  I  could  learn,  the  oligarchy  of  Berne 
does  not  deserve  to  form  an  exception. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  OBERLAND  BERNOIS. 

Journey  from  Berne  to  Interlaken— Thun  and  its  Lake — 
Unterseen,  and  the  Plain  of  Interlaken— Inns  and  Board- 
ing Houses — Interlaken  as  a  Residence — Scenerj- — Muta- 
bilitj-  of  Fashion — Journey  by  the  Wengern  Alp  and  the 
Sheideck— Lauterbrunnen  and  its  Valley— The  Stubbach 
—Cheese-making— Mountain  Scenery— The  Jungfrau- 
The  Silver  Horns- The  Wetterhorn— Mount  Eiger- De- 
tails respecting  the  Ascent  of  the  Jungfrau— Night  Views 
—Mountain  Legend— Effects  of  a  Glacier— Descent  to- 
wards Grindelwald. 

Having  satisfied  my  curiosity  in  Berne,  I  left  that 
interesting  capital  'for  Thun,  and  the  Oberland 
Bernois. 

Nothing  can  be  more  charming  than  the  countrj' 
between  Berne  and  Thun.  It  is  a  constant  succes*- 
sion  of  meadow  and  orchard,  beautifully  diversified 
with  neat  cottages  and  gardens,  and  presenting  all 
the  fertility  of  a  i)lain,  without  its  monotony  ;  for 
the  surface  is  broken  into  hillocks,  and  every  where 
offers  to  the  eye  the  most  delightful  variety  that 
cultivated  nature  is  capable  of  affording.  I  noticed, 
that  to  every  third  or  fourth  house  was  attached  a 
small  manufactory  of  earthenware.  There  is  a 
particular  kind  of  earth  especially  .suited  for  the 
purpose,  found  about  three  leagues  from  Thun, 
which  costs  only  the  expense  of  carriage.  The 
pots  made  in  these  parts  are  held  in  high  estima- 
tion, and  are  bought  not  only  for  the  use  of  the 
neighbouring  towns,  but  also  by  French  hawkers. 


48 


THE  oBERLAM)  RERNOIS. 


[chap.  xv. 


who  make  an  trrand  tliert'  twice  at  least  every 

year. 

Every  one  must  be  pleased  w  ith  the  situation  of 
Than.  Placed  in  the  vestibule  of  the  mountains, 
it  unites  the  su>»liniity  of  iuountaln-se(>nery  with 
the  softer  t;rac(>s  of  the  fertile  country  that  stretches 
towards  Berne  :  the  fine  rapid  Aar  sweeps  throui^h 
the  town,  and  the  castle  and  the  church  crown  the 
wooded  hill  that  connnands  it.  I  n.'ached  Thun 
al)i)Ut  six  hours  after  leavini;  Berne  ;  and,  after 
visitinj;  the  church-yard,  fanmiis  en  accoinit  of  the 
prospect  enjoyed  from  it,  and  havinjj:  obtained  sj\tis- 
factory  evidence  of  the  truth  of  what  I  had  often 
heanl,  that  the  priiu-ipal  inn  is  one  of  the  dearest 
in  Switzerland,  1  hired  a  boat  to  carry  me  up  the 
lake.  The  price  of  boats  upon  all  the  Swiss  lakes 
depends  upon  the  number  of  boatmen  ;  and  a  tra- 
veilt^r  who  has  no  opinion  of  his  own,  as  to  the 
wind  and  weather,  will  certainly  be  subjected  to 
hi£rli  diaries.  Boatmen  alwavs  complain  of  the 
bad  weather.  With  them,  it  is  always  either  nuich 
wind,  contrary  wind,  or  the  a]»pearjmce  of  wind. 
It  was  a-s  serene  a  sky  as  was  ever  ri'tlected  in  the 
bosom  of  a  lake  when  I  arrived  at  Thun  ;  but  the 
boatmen  assured  me  that  I  could  not  attempt  the 
]>aKSii<^e  of  the  lake  with  fewer  than  thre*'  mwei-s. 
They  admitted  that  it  was  not  nuich  wind  just  then, 
but  the  wind  was  risin<j; ;  and  besides,  it  blew  ex- 
actly down  the  lake.  Now,  1  knew  perfectly  that 
the  wind  was  precisely  in  the  other  (juarter;  and 
that,  if  it  did  increase,  our  voyage  would  be  only 
so  nuich  the  shorter  ;  and  so  tlie  event  proved.  I 
took  two  rowers.  The  w  ind  rose,  and  cari'ied  us 
uj)  the  lake  without  the  aid  of  their  oars  at  all. 
The  voyatje  was  ra}>id  and  agreeabl<\  The  banks 
of  the  lake  are  extremely  varied,  changing  gra- 
dually from  the  picturesijue  to  the  sublime  ;  and  a 
boat  full  of  peasants,  returning  home  from  market, 
conlributed  greatly  to  heighten  the  pleasure.  They 
SJing  some  i>retty  national  airs,  and  sung  them 
well ;  and,  long  afti'r  we  had  jjassed  them,  the  cho- 
rus, swelling  and  dying  away  as  the  breeze  fell  and 
rose,  came  in  wild  and  undulating  melody  over  the 
water. 

Our  voyage  terminated  a])out  six  in  the  after- 
noon, and  1  immediately  walked  forward  to  Unter- 
seen,  a  little  village  situated  about  half-way  l)et ween 
the  lakes  of  Thun  and  I'lrientz,  and  wliich  is  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  most  charmingly  situated  in  Swit- 
zerland. The  villatre  itself  is  old  and  rather  uglv  ; 
but  it  is  so  small,  that  three  minutes'  walk  is  sutti- 
cient  to  cari'y  one  l»eyond  its  precincts.  About 
three-quartei*s  of  a  mile  from  Unterseen,  is  Inter- 
laken,  the  well-known  resort  of  the  English.  Next 
morning  I  walked  through  it  ;  and,  at  every  step 
from  Untei'^een,  I  foiuid  new  reason  to  be  delighted 
with  the  scenery  of  this  most  inchanting  valley. 
Interlaken  consists  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  boarding- 
houses,  lying  at  little  intervals  from  each  other, 
upon  either  side  of  a  broad  avenut>  which  reaches 
from  lake  to  lake.  The  terms  of  these  boarding- 
houses  are  reasonable  enough.  The  two  or  three 
enjoying  the  highest  rejiutation,  chargt;  5  francs 
per  tiay,  wine  included  ;  and  for  this,  a  well-served 
table  and  a  comfortable  a{)artiuent  are  provided. 
The  next  of  the  lioarding-houses  charge  4^  francs. 
The  inns  both  at  Interlaken  and  at  Untereeen,  are 
the  projjcrty  of  government  ;  which  has,  in  conse- 
quence, made  a  ipost  unjust  decri  e,  by  which  no 
stranger  can  be  received  in  any  of  the  boarding- 


houses  for  a  less  time  than  nine  days.     Tn  conse- 
queiu-e  of   this  regulation,    travellei-s   meaning   to 
reside  at  Interlaken  f<«r  a  less  time  than  nine  days, 
are  obliged  to  go  to  the  hotel,  where  they  pay  a 
direct  tax  to  the  government,  in  th(>  shape  of  most 
enormous  charges  made    by   the   two   inn-kee|)ers. 
This  seems  tu  me  to  be  a  most  odious  monopoly, 
alike    unjust   towards    travellei-s,    and   oppressive 
towards    the    keepers    of    lioarding-houses.       The 
])oarding-house  speculation  at   Interlaken  has  been 
overdone.       I    saw    two   magnificent    new    houses 
almost   ready  for  the  reception  of  company,  while 
the  fifteen  old   ones  were  not  half-full.     When   I 
visitid  Interlaken,  there  were  only  between  seventy 
and   eighty  strangirs   there ;  and  last   year,  at  the 
same  .season,  there  were  no  fewer  than  seven  hun- 
dred, of  whom  nearly  five  liundred   were  English. 
There  w<'re  reasons  why  fewer   English  than  usual 
should    lie  found  upon  the  continent  in  the  sunnner 
of  l}{;iO  ;  but  there  is  a  fashion  also  in  these  things  ; 
and   it   is  more  than   probable,  that  Interlaken  luus 
already  seen  its  most   pr(»sperous  days.     But   it  is 
impossible  that  it  can  ever  cease  to  be  a  rendez- 
vous ;  for  it  is  without  doubt  the  most  central  })oint 
in  Switzerland, for  those  who  wish  to  find  an  agree- 
able si)ot,  situat<d  at  a  modirate  distance  from  many 
of  the  most  renuirkalile  objects  ;  and,  besides,  the 
beauty  of  the  place  nmst  always  have  power  to  arrest 
the  stej)S  of  many  travellers.     An  English  gentle- 
man has  lately  built  a  house  about   two  miles  from 
Interlaken,  and  resides  there  permanently  with  his 
family.     The   liouse  cost  about  50/.  building ;  and 
the  expense  of  his  housekeeping,  four  in  family, 
does  not  exceed  foin-  francs  per  day.     The  Canton 
of  lierne   has  lately  passed  a  law,  by  which  stran- 
gers are  forbidden  "to  beconu'  jiroprietoi'S  of  land  or 
houses  within  the  canton.     This  law  the  English 
gentleman  has  avoided,  by  the  title  being  made  (mt 
in  the  name  of  a  peasant  with  whom  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  board  before  the  house  was  built  ;  but  it 
is  difficult  to  perceive,  how,  upon  the  death  of  the 
owner,  liis  licirs  will  be  able  to  prove  their  title  to 
the  inheritance.     To  one  who  is  fond  of  chamois 
hunting,  and  who  has  no  ties  at  home  (and  yet,  who 
arc  they  {  for  has  not  every  man  the  tie  of  country  ?), 
Interlaken  is  as  choice  a  spot  a«  can  anywhere  be 
found  ;  and,  if  a  lu)use  can  be  built  for  oO/.,  and  a 
family   maintained   uj)on   four  francs  a  day,  small 
means  are  recjuired  for  the  luxury  of  such  a  resi- 
dence.   I  can  easily  believe  tliat  the  expenditure  of 
a  small   family  does  not  exceed  this  sum  ;  for  all   [ 
kinds  of  i^rovisions  are  extremely  cheaj).    Veal  is  3d. 
per  lb.  ;  mutton  3^d. ;  beef  the  same  ;  butter  5d.  or 
fJd. ;  vegetables  aiul  fruit  for  almost  nothing  ;  and 
many  kinds  of  game  and   fish   may  be  had  for  the 
trouble  of  killing  or  catching  them. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  beauty  and  attractions  of 
Interlaken  ;  but  1  have  not  yet  said  in  what  these 
consist.  Tlie  valley,  or  little  ]>lain,  in  which  In- 
terlaken is  situated,  is  about  four  miles  long,  and 
from  one  to  three  broad.  I  need  scarcely  say,  that  it 
derives  its  name  from  its  situation,  lying  between  the 
two  lakes  of  Thun  and  Brientz,  wliieh  are  connected 
by  the  river  Aar.  The  beauty  and  fertility  of  this 
little  valley  are  extraordinary.  The  greenest  and 
most  luxuriant  meadows — the  richest  and  most 
variegated  foliage — orchards  pendent  with  their 
beauteous  burden  -  -gardens  enanulled  with  fiowei-s, 
anil  stored  with  e^ery  vegetable  production — form 
altogether  a  carpen  of  rare  beauty.     And  although 


CHAP.  XV.] 


THE  OBERLAND  BERNOIS. 


49 


I  have  called  this  s])ot  the  plain  of  Interlaken,  and 
it  may  well  l)e  called  a  plain  in  comj»arison  with  the 
surrounding  eonnti-y,\et  it  is  not  literally  a  [•lain — 
it  is  strewn  with  picturestiue  eminences,  rocky,  and 
ovei-spread  with  fine  old  wood  ;  and, along  the  right 
side  of  the  river,  the  bank  rises  gradually  uj)  to  the 
mountains  that  shut  in  the  valley.  1  do  not  be- 
lieve a  more  charming  spot  than  Interlaken  is  to  be 
found  in  Europe.  1  know  of  nothing  that  it  wants. 
It  combines  the  beautiful,  tlie  jiicturesque,  and  the 
sublime.  The  little  })lain  is  redolent  in  beauty  and 
fertility.  The  inuuediate  environs  piT^sent  the  jdc- 
turesque  in  its  multiform  aspects ;  and  the  glorious 
peaks  of  the  Silver  Horn,  tht;  Monk,  Mount  Eiger, 
ami  the  Jungfrau,  are  tlie  lionndary  of  its  horizon. 
Add  to  all  this,  that  the  clinuite  of  Interlaken  is 
mild  ;  that  in  tlie  hottest  sun,  the  fine  avenues  of 
magnificent  walnut-trees  offer  an  effectual  shade  ; 
that  within  the  limits  of  a  stroll  are  the  shores  of 
two  charming  lakes  ;  that,  in  one's  mornhig-gown 
and  slippers,  a  dish  of  trout  m«ay  be  taken  from  the 
Aar  for  breakfiust;  and  that  comfortable  accommo- 
dation, and  a  choice  of  good  society,  arc  at  com- 
mand. And  1  think  I  may  safely  say,  that  if  fashion 
should  desert  Interlaken,  she  will  run  counter  to 
good  taste. 

While  I  remained  in  this  valley,  I  resided  in  the 
hotel  at  Untci-seen,  which,  I  am  told,  is  not  quite 
so  good  as  the  hotel  at  Interlaken  ;  but,  being  rather 
more  central  ft)r  the  different  excursions,  I  pre- 
ferred it.  This  hotel  used  to  Ijoast  for  its  hostess, 
the  7>.7/<  IkddJ'ih'c  of  Brientz  ;  but  it  seems  that  the 
incivility  of  the  landlord  outweighed  the  beauty  of 
the  landlady  in  the  eyes  of  travellers ;  for  custom 
falling  off,  the  Beniese  government,  to  which  the 
hotel  belongs,  displa(M>d  the  tenant,  and  found  an- 
other, the  brother  of  the  hotel-keeper  at  Interlaken, 
under  whose  surreUfAinoi  it  has  recovered  its  repu- 
tation. The  Bi'Ile  BateUiere  now  keeps  a  little  shop 
in  Unterseen  ;  and  there,  I  understand,  her  repu- 
tiitien  secures  her  a  comfortable  livelihood;  for 
scarcely  does  any  stranger  leave  the  valley,  with- 
out i)urchasing  some  little  ornament,  the  price  of 
which,  not  being  proportioned  to  its  hitrinsic  value, 
is  undei-stood  U)  include  also  the  value  of  a  glance 
at  the  fair  vender.  She  is  now  thirty-four,  and  is 
not  what  she  has  been. 

Without  much  riches,  the  villagers  of  Unterseen 
seemed  contented  and  cheerful.  It  was  pleasant  to 
see  them  assemble  in  whole  families  every  fine 
evening  before  their  cottage-doors,  watching  the 
return  of  their  goats.  No  family  is  without  a  few- 
goats  ;  and  about  dusk,  or  a  little  earlier,  tlu'  whole 
S(puidron,  the  united  property  of  the  villagers, 
arrives  at  the  market-}»lacc,  and  there,  like  a  bat- 
tallion  to  which  the  word  *'  dismiss"  has  been  given, 
they  break  up  the  order  of  march,  and  run  to  their 
respective  homes,  in  groups  of  twos  and  threes, 
while  some  one  of  every  family  rises  to  receive  and 
tend  the  wanderei's. 

After  having  j)assed  two  or  three  days  at  Inter- 
laken, I  left  it  on  an  excursion  to  Grindelwald, 
across  the  Wengern  Alp,  and  Scheideck.  I  walked 
out  of  Unterseen  about  five  o'clock,  and  was  not  a 
little  pleased  to  see  the  summits  of  all  the  moun- 
tains disrobed,  their  snowy  peaks  backed  by  a 
serene  sky.  After  crossing  the  little  [)lain  of  Inter- 
laken, the  road  winds  up  the  narrow  valley  by  the 
side  of  the  river  Leutchen,  to  the  point  wheri^  the 
two  branches  of  the  stream  unite  ;  one,  the  White 


Leutchen,  coming  from  tlie  valley  of  Lauterbrun- 
nen  ;  the  other,  the  Black  Leutchen,  from  the 
valley  of  ( Jrindehvald.  United  here,  they  are  called 
Ziccylatddncn,  and  flow  towards  the  Lake  of  Brientz. 
From  this  point  a  carriage-road  leads  to  Grindel- 
wald, up  the  bank  of  the  IMaek  Leutchen  ;  but  no 
traveller  who  can  walk,  or  ride  on  horsel)aek,  ought 
to  go  by  that  road  to  G  rindel  w  aid,  but  l)y  Lauterbrun- 
nen  and  the  Wengern  Alp.  1  accordingly  turned 
to  the  ri";ht  towards  Lauterbrunnen,  and  followed 
up  its  narrow  valley,  often  a  mere  gorge,  to  the 
aul}er<ie,  which  lies  about  2500  feet  above  the  sea. 

Lauterbrunnen  is  an  interesting  valley,  and  in 
nianv  places  a  beautiful  one.  It  is  nearly  fifteen 
miles  long,  and  scai^cely  ever  exceeds  half  a  mile 
in  breadth,  and,  like  all  the  Swiss  valleys  of  a 
similar  character,  it  is  subject  to  the  visitation  of 
the  avalanche,  and  to  the  fall  of  rocks.  The  name 
Lanft  rhn/ 1/  iini  ,ii'v^mi\QS  ''clear  fountains;"  and  it  is 
well  named  ;  for  on  each  side  innumerable  rivulets 
are  seen  tumbling  down  the  mountains,  in  long 
threads  of  silvery  foam.  The  village  of  Lauter- 
brunnen only  contains  about  200  [)ersons.  The  rest 
of  the  inha'bitiints,  about  1000,  are  scattered  in 
cottages  and  chalets  up  and  down  the  valley.  They 
are  poor  ;  a  consequence  here,  as  in  some  other 
parts  of  Switzerland,  of  the  infiux  of  strangei-s, 
whose  chance  benefices  are  too  often  preferred  to 
the  regular  returns  of  industry.  The  valley  might 
well  maintain  its  inhabitants  in  comfort.  Few  of 
the  Swiss  valleys  produce  a  more  delicious  cheese, 
or  one  more  esteemed  ;  and  in  the  lower  jjarts  of 
the  valley,  oats,  barley,  and  even  some  wheat, 
might  be  successfully  cultivated.  On  entering  the 
village  of  Lauterbruiuien,  I  was  accosted  l)y  at 
least  half-a-dozen  persons  requesting  employment 
as  guides  to  the  different  objects  of  curiosity,  and 
by  one  or  two  beggars  besides.  Thus  it  is,  that 
good  and  evil  spring  up  together,  and  that  that 
which  scatters  riches  on  one  side,  sows  poverty  on 
the  other. 

I  had  heard  much  of  the  cataract  of  the  Stul)- 
bach,  but  was  miserably  disa}tpointed  by  it.  The 
name — meaning  fall  of  powder — is  well  api>lied. 
The  cascade  is  said  to  be  nearly  800  feet  high  ;  but 
it  descends  entirely  hi  si)ra}-,  and  is  wanting  in  that 
greatest  attraction  of  a  cataract — sublimity. 

1  met  two  parties  at  the  inn  preparing  to  pass 
the  Wengern  Alp  to  Grindelwald  ; — one,  a  j)arty  of 
Gennan  pedestrians  ;  the  other,  a  party  of  English, 
two  ladies  and  a  gentleman.  The  character  of  the 
English  ladies  for  enterprise,  courage,  and  perse- 
verance, ranks  very  high  in  Switzerland.  1  have 
heard  some  old  guides  speak  in  rai)turous  terras  of 
my  countrywomen,  on  account  of  tlieir  contempt  of 
difficulty,  and  even  of  danger  ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  reputation  of  Frenchwomen  for  these 
same  qualities  stands  as  low  as  possible  in  their 
estimation. 

The  ascent  begins  immediately  when  lea\ing  the 
village,  and  for  the  fii-st  two  hours  it  is  sufiieiently 
laborious.  The  labour  is  repaid,  liowever,  by  the 
charming  view  which  may  at  any  time  be  enjoyed 
by  turning  round.  The  long,  deep  valley  of  Lau- 
terbrunnen, with  its  hundred  rills  stretched  at  your 
feet  ;  opi)osite,  the  cascade  of  the  Stubliach  is  seen 
issuing  from  a  mass  of  snow  which  crowns  the 
height  ;  and  to  the  left,  the  eye  follows  the  valley 
UJ)  to  its  majestic  barrier,  the  Groshorn,  and  the 
limbs  of  ih.e  other  giant  niountahis  that  stretch  be- 

K 


lii! 


50 


THE  UBEKLANl)  BERNOIS. 


[chap.  XV, 


liind  the  Weni^em  Alp.  You  Umk  down  also  upon 
the  Schaniailribach,  a  vast  snowy  plain,  where,  at 
break  of  day,  troops  of  chamois  may  f^enerally  be 
seen,  and  where  also  the  tinest  ea<;les  in  Switzer- 
land have  their  eyrie.  One  was  killed  about  a  fort- 
night before  1  visited  this  place,  measuring  four- 
teen feet  and  a  half  from  wing  to  wing. 

After  an  ascent  of  alK)Ut  an  hour  and  a  half,  I 
found  njyself  descending,  and  in  another  lialf-hour 
I  entered  uj)on  the  Wengern  Alp.  In  this  little 
hollow  I  saw  several  pretty  cottages  ;  and  ev(Mi  at 
so  gnat  an  elevation,  the  gardens  attached  to  them 
were  full  of  peas  in  fine  blossom.  A  little  farther, 
just  on  leaving  the  belt  of  wood  that  girds  tlie 
lower  part  of  the  Wengern  Alp,  I  reached  an  open 
rocky  space,  where  seven  or  eight  small  houses  were 
perched.  These  I  found  to  be  receptacles  for 
cheese.  The  temperature  of  this  altitude  is  thought 
to  be  more  suitable  for  the  ripening  of  cheese,  than 
either  a  lower  or  a  higher  elevation  ;  and  every 
day,  the  cheese  that  is  made  liigher  up  the  moun- 
tain is  brought  down  and  deposited  here.  One  of 
the  moiuitaineers  having  just  brought  some  cheese, 
I  took  the  opportunity  of  looking  into  the  de}H)sitory. 
1  counted  sixty  cheeses,  and  he  told  me  that  btfore 
September  there  would  be  200.  These  belonged  to 
four  persons,  each  of  whom  have  therefore  tifty 
chec  ses.  The  cheese  sells  at  nine  sous  to  the  mer- 
chant, and  by  him  to  the  public  at  twelve  ;  and  is 
called  j'ntnKKje  de  WeH<jern-Alp.  There  is  still  a 
more  delicious  and  more  delicate  cheese  made  at 
Srtnon,  a  village  on  tlie  other  side  of  the  valley, 
situated  upon  a  mountain  of  the  same  name.  It  is 
made  in  very  small  ([uantities,  and  is  all  sent  to 
Berne,  where  it  sells  at  sixteen  to  eighteen  sous. 

At  every  stt})  1  found  the  path  become  more  in- 
teresting. New  mountain- peaks  successively  came 
into  view,  till  at  length  the  stupendous  range  of  the 
Oberland  Btrnois  rose  before  me — the  Jungfrau  in 
the  centre,  the  two  Silver  Horns  on  either  side,  the 
Crispalt,  and  the  shouldirs  of  the  W'ltterhorn  and 
Mount  Higcr,  stretching  behind  the  Scheideck. 
From  the  path  across  the  Wengern  Alp,  the  preci- 
pices of  the  Jungfrau  seem  scarcely  distant  a  gun- 
shot ;  but  a  deep  valley  lies  between,  probably  a 
league  across.  The  l)ighest  point  of  the  Junglrau 
presents  a  reddish  rock  in  front,  too  or^ryc  to  j)er- 
mit  the  snow  to  lodge  upon  it  ;  but  the  Silver  Horns 
and  the  Monk  exhibit  smooth  surfaces  of  da/zling 
whiteness.  The  former  esj)ecially,  though  less  ele- 
vated than  the  neighbouring  mountains,  are  pecu- 
liarly striking,  from  the  pointed  forms  of  their 
summits,  and  the  unbroken  mantle  of  snow  that 
enveloj)es  them.  But  the  Jungfrau  is  the  chief 
object  of  attraction,  not  entirely  owing  to  its  gnat 
elevation,  though  that  approaches  nearly  to  13,000 
feet,  but  also  because  of  its  tremendous  precipices, 
friglitful  ravines,  and  vast  accumulations  of  snow. 
The  Jungfrau  was  long  belie\ed  to  be  inaccessible  ; 
but  this  idea  has  been  proved  to  be  erroneous.  Two 
persons,  named  Meyers,  enjoyed  for  some  yeai-s  the 
reputation  of  liaving  reached  the  sunnnit  of  the 
Jungfrau.  The  attempt  was  made  by  them  in 
1812  ;  but  there  afterwai'ds  ap}>eared  reason  to 
doubt  if  the  attempt  had  really  proved  successful. 
No  other  endeavour  was  made  till  the  year  1828. 
In  the  early  part  of  that  year,  an  English  gentleman 
engaged  some  peasants  of  Grindelwald  to  attempt 
the  ascent  ;  but  the  weather  proving  unfavourable 
during  some  weeks,  the  person   who  had  engaged 


their  services  left  that  neighbourhood  for  Berne  ; 
but  the  weather  soon  after  clearing  up,  they  set  out 
by  themst'lveson  the  lOth  of  August.  They  wc-re 
six  in  number  ;  and  their  names  arc  Pierre  liow- 
mann.  Christian  Bowmann,  Pierre  Rotli,  Hiltbrand 
Burgumien,  Ulrich  Vitvei',  and  Pierre  Mosser. 
They  comnienced  the  ascent  from  Grindelwald,  en- 
tering between  the  Mettcnberg  and  Mount  Eiger, 
and  passing  by  the  Glacier  ////on'^Mr  of  Grindelwald, 
and  the  J/»r  df  Glace  behind  Mount  Eiger.  'J'he 
first  night  they  slejit  in  a  natural  grotto  ;  and  at 
owe  in  the  morninj'  tluv  ncommenced  their  jour- 
ney,  leavhig  the  Monk  on  the  right,  and  proceeding 
along  the  southern  declivity  of  the  Jungfrau.  The 
iournev  was  atten(U<l  with  nmch  ditticultv  and 
danger  ;  but  at  length  they  reached  the  sunnnit, 
and  fixed  an  iron  pole  uj>on  the  highest  point,  by 
screwing  it  into  the  ice,  where  it  may  now  be  seen 
by  the  help  of  a  teUscojx-.  The  area  of  tlie  summit 
is  from  thirtv  to  fortv  feet  in  diameter.  Towanis 
the  south  a  vast  field  of  ice  extends  toward  the 
Vallaiit ;  and  towards  the  iH>rth  descends  that 
range  of  precipices  seen  from  the  Wengern  Alj). 

Notwithstanding  the  accon  plishmint  of  this  at- 
tempt, it  has  never  bt'cn  succtssfully  repeated.  In 
the  sunmier  of  182!),  two  English  gentlemen,  accom- 
panied by  guides,  atti  inj>te(l  the  enterprise  ;  but  a 
storm  compelled  them  to  return,  and  the  guides 
have  subse(pu  ntly  refused  to  repeat  the  exiteriment. 
The  guides  of  (Jrindelwald  are  probably  less  adven- 
turous than  those  of  Chamouni  ;  and  I  was  informed 
that  storms  are  more  frecpient  and  sudden  in  this 
part  of  the  Oberland  Bernois  than  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Mont  Blanc.  Of  such  hon(»urable  notoriety 
is  the  name  of  an  EngUshman,  that  an  impostor 
occasionally  screens  himself  under  it  to  commit 
inifiuity.  An  instance  of  this  occurred  last  summer, 
and  with  reference  to  the  ascent  of  the  Jungfrau. 
A  person  calling  himself  English,  and  at  all  events 
master  of  the  language,  gave  out  that  he  meant  to 
ascend  the  Junglrau.  He  hired  guides,  laid  in 
provisions  on  credit,  and  lived  f(»r  a  month  at  tlie 
Hotel  des  Centilhommes  at  Berne,  upon  the  rej)uta- 
tion  of  having  formed  so  great  a  }>roject. 

It  is  the  usual  practice  to  cross  the  ^^'engern  Alp 
and  the  Scheideck  to  (Jrindelwald  in  one  day  ;  but 
1  preferred  j)assing  the  day  and  the  evening  uj)on 
the  mountain,  and  sleeping  at  the  chalet,  wlure 
I'very  traveller  stops  to  rest  and  refresh  himself. 
1  descended  as  far  into  the  deep  valUy  that  sej>a- 
I'atis  the  Wengern  Alp  from  the  Jungfrau  as  the 
precipices  permitted,  and  spent  the  n  mainder  of 
the  day  among  the  steep  diclivitits  that  lie  opposite 
to  the  majistlc  scenes  which  the  l»osom  of  the 
Jungfrau  discloses  ;  and  when  the  sun  went  down, 
and  the  shadows  crej»t  up  the  mountains,  1  returned 
to  the  chalet,  where  I  had  some  hours  of  comfort- 
able slet  J)  upon  a  skin  sj>riad  ui»on  a  table.  \\  lun 
1  awoke,  it  was  past  midnight  ;  and  feeling  rather 
chilly,  1  walked  out.  The  light  of  a  waning  moon 
fell  dimly  upon  the  mountains.  It  was  the  reign  of 
solitude  and  silence.  Even  the  avalanche  was  at 
rest.  The  stars  ahtne  watched  above  the  mountain- 
tops.  At  daybreak  I  commenced  my  journey 
towards  (jlriiidelwald.  The  i>ath,  after  traversing 
the  Wengern  Ali»,  enters  upon  the  Scheideck,  and 
other  mountains  come  into  view  successively — 
Mount  Eiger,  the  Wettirhorn,  the  Shrtckhorn,  and 
the  Finsteraarhorn.  These  are  all  very  elevated 
mountains,  and  striking  from  their  forms  and  posi- 


riFAP.  XVI.] 


THE  OBERLAND  BERNOIS. 


51 


tion,  as  well  as  from  tlieir  elevation.  These,  with  the 
Jungfrau,  ai'c  indeed  the  highest  mountains  of  Swit- 
zerland, excejiting  Mount  Rosa  and  Mount  Cervin. 
Mont  Blanc  is  not  a  Swiss  mountain.  Of  all  the 
mountains  1  have  seen,  Mount  Eiger  is  the  most 
inii>osing.  Most  mountains  have  several  peaks,  or 
summits,  as  th(\v  are  im])ro]ierly  called  ;  and  the 
highest  of  these  generally  n'cedes,  and  is  only  visible 
at  a  distance.  But  the  highest  peak  of  Mount 
Eiger  overhangs  the  valley  of  (irindelwald  ;  and  the 
eye  is  able  to  scan,  at  one  glance,  the  whole  range 
of  precijtices,  embracing  an  elevation  of  not  less 
than  8000  or  DOO!)  feet.  ' 

After  jiassing  the  shoulder  of  the  Scheideck, 
which  is  somewhat  less  than  5000  feet  high,  the 
path  b(>gins  to  descend  towards  tjrindehvald.  Here 
the  Wetterhorn  becomes  the  most  conspicuous  ob- 
ject, and  a  view  o})ens  into  the  heart  of  the  moun- 
tain. It  has  long  been  supposed  that  this  mountain 
contains  gold,  and  al»out  thirtv  vears  ajjo  an 
attemjit  was  made  to  open  a  mine  ;  but  the  sujier- 
stitions  of  the  miners  were  so  strong,  that  the 
design  was  al)andoned.  It  was  said,  tliat  whenever 
the  hammer  of  the  miner  struck  the  rock,  the 
stroke  was  repeated  by  some  invisible  being.  Thus 
far  the  story  may  easily  be  credited  ;  but  it  goes 
farther.  Sometimes  the  miners  were  assailed  by 
showers  of  stones  ; — frequently  the  excavations  of 
one  day  were  filled  up  next  morning  ;  and  at 
length,  one  morning  the  whole  mine  was  found  to 
be  occupied  by  the  riglitful  inhabitants  of  the  moun- 
tain-caves, and  upon  the  miners  endeavouring  to 
make  their  escape,  the  roof  fell  in  and  buried  them 
all.  There  might  probably  be  superstitions  to  con- 
tend with  from  the  first  ;  and  some  accident  having 
happened  to  the  miners,  truth  lias  helped  out  the 
legend.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  attempt 
was  made,  and  has  not  been  repeated. 

In  descending  towards  Grindelwald,  one  remarks 
with  astonishment  the  extraordinary  effects  of  a 
glacier  that  fell  some  years  ago.  It  is  entirely  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  woods  offer  an  effectual 
barrier  to  the  })rogress  of  a  great  glacier.  In  this 
place  the  ground  is  entirely  cleared ;  tlie  trees  have 
been  swept  away  like  reeds  ;  and  an  area  of  at 
least  a  mile  and  a  half  Sipiare  is  strewn  w  ith  stones 
and  roots  of  trees.  On  each  side  of  this  area,  where 
the  glacier  has  not  touched,  there  is  a  fine  forest. 
The  descent  from  Scheideck  is  tolerably  rapid,  but 
neither  difficult  nor  long.  The  level  of  the  valley 
of  Grindelwald  is  greatly  higher  than  that  of  Lau- 
terbrunnen  ;  so  that  the  ascent  from  Lauterbrun- 
nen  is  much  greater  than  the  descent  upon 
(^Irindehvald.  In  about  two  hours  and  a  half  I 
ix'ached  the  Glacier  Inferieur. 

CHAPTER  XvT. 

Tin:  OBFRLANn  nEKNOlS — TIIK  CANTONS   OF    FRIBOURG 

AND  VALD. 

Tlie  (Uaciers  of  Grindelwald — Excursion  on  the  Mer  de 
Glace,  and  Details  respecting'  the  Death  of  M.  Mouron — 
State  of  the  Inhabitants  of  the  Valley  of  Grindelwald,  and 
strange  Laws  and  rsaf,a>s  peculiar  to  it — Return  to  Inter- 
laken — Escape  of  a  Schoolmaster — Valley  of  the  Black 
Leutchen — Visit  to  the  Lake  of  Hrientz — The  Griesbach — 
The  Evils  of  Imagination — Ikientz — A  Moonlight  Sail, 
and  Return  to  Interlaken— Journey  from  Interlaken  to 
Vevay,  by  the  Semmcnthall— Spietz — Wimmiss — Charac- 
ter of  the  Semmenthall — Saanenland,  Gruyere,  and  Gruyore 
Cheese— Descent  to  the  Lake  of  Geneva— Vevay. 

Tui:  glaciers  of  Grindelwald  are  always  one  prin- 


cipal object  of  the  traveller's  curiosity,  and  are 
well  deserving  of  a  vi.sit,  even  by  one  w  ho  has  been 
at  Chamouni.  Tlie  lowest  part  of  the  (rlacicr  In- 
ferieur,  w  Inch  I  first  visited,  reaches  into  the  valley. 
The  finest  verdure  is  seen  within  a  few  yards  of  it  ; 
and,  for  at  least  a  mile  on  either  side,  it  is  fringed 
with  furze.  One  l)ranch  of  the  river  Leutclien 
issues  from  l»eneath  it,  of  course  at  the  lowest 
point ;  and  here  an  arch  is  formed  about  seventy 
feet  high,  and  thirty  w  ide  ;  the  ice,  forming  the 
roof  of  this  arch,  is  like  greenish  crystal,  and  is 
extremely  loose.  A  part  had  lately  fallen  in,  and 
other  large  fragments  seemed  ready  to  detach 
themselves.  The  glacier  extends  up  the  mountain 
about  two  miles,  and  certainly  ]>resents  a  very  sin- 
gular appearance  viewed  fmm  below.  It  is  covered 
with  |)innacles,  some  of  thorn  thirty  (U'  forty  feet 
high,  varied  and  picturesc^ue  in  their  forms,  and  is 
intersected  by  immense  cracks,  which  render  it 
difiicult  and  dangerous  to  traverse.  Beyond  this 
glacier  lies  the  Mer  de  Glare,  whit-h  extends  l)e- 
tween  Mount  Eiger  and  the  ^Merlikhorn.  I  also 
visited  the  Glacier  Sii})crieur,\\'\\\c\\  difiers  from  the 
other  only  in  having  no  jiinnacles  ;  but  the  cracks 
and  crevices  that  traverse  it  are  still  more  nume- 
rous and  formidable  than  those  of  the  Glacier  In- 
ferirur. 

There  arc  two  inns  at  Grindelwald,  the  lower 
and  the  upi)er.  The  former  has  the  character  of 
being  the  best  ;  but  I  preferred  the  situation  of  the 
other,  and  found  nothing  in  it  to  coni})lain  of.  From 
tlie  Salle  a  Man<jer,  which,  upon  one  side,  is  entirely 
glass,  there  is  a  magnificent  view  of  botli  the  gla- 
ciers ;  and  of  Mount  Eiger,  the  Wetterhorn,  Fin- 
steraarhorn, &c.  I  found  the  inn  crowded  with 
travellers,  chiefly  pedestrians,  many  of  tliem  Ger- 
mans. The  other  inn  is  more  run  upon  by  the 
great,  especially  by  Jfc.<gieun<  /..<  Arnjlais. 

Next  morning  very  early,  I  left  the  inn  with  a 
guide,  to  visit  the  Mer  de  Glace,  which  lies  beyond 
the  glaciers,  and  which  is  chiefly  remarkable  for 
its  connexion  with  the  melancholv  occurrence  which, 
a  few  years  ago,  deprived  the  world  of  a  good  man, 
and  the  church  of  a  pious  minister.    I  ascended  by 
the  side  of  the  Glacier  Ivfe/wur,  and  then  turned 
to  the  left  upon  the  Mer  de  (rleic^^,  which   extends 
about  two  leagues  in  that   direction.       From  the 
commencement   of   the   Mer  de  Glace,  it   is  little 
more  than  an  hour's  walk  to  the  spot  wliere  the 
catastrophe  took  place.     A  small  stream  runs  from 
the  up|)cr  part  of  the  3Ier  de  Glace,  into  a  little  bed 
tliree  or  four  feet  deep,  and  here  precipitates  itself 
into  a  hole,  which  1  found  to  be  about  six  feet  in  diii- 
meter,  the  orifice  forming  an  irregular  square,  and 
somewhat   inclining  inward.     The  unfortunate  in- 
dividual whose  life  was  here  suddenly  and  awfully 
terminated,   was    a   protestant   clergyman   named 
Mouroi}.     He  had  made   an   excursion   from  the 
Pays  de  \^and,  where  he  lived,  to  pass  a  few  days 
in  the  Oberland  Bernois  :  and  the  dav  after  his  ar- 
rival  in  Grindelwald,  he  went  with  a  guide  to  walk 
over  the  Mer  de  Glace.     M.  Mouron,  in  passing 
near  this  hole,  was  naturally  attracted  by  it,  and 
aj)proached  near  its  brink  ;  and  that  he  might  w  ith 
safety  look   down,  he  struck  his  spike  into  the  ice, 
and  leant  upon  its  head.     The  spike  penetrated  the 
ice,  or  slid  forward  ;  and   M.  ^louron,  losing  his 
prop,  necessarily  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  forward. 
This  is  the  true  version  of  the  storv.     It  is  a  mis- 
take  to  suppose  that  he  lost  his  balance  in  throwing 

E  2 


.V2 


TIIK  ()IU{:RLAN1)  bernois. 


[CHAr.  XVI. 


•I 


ir 


n  stone  into  the  linl.'.  Tlie  spike  was  found  Rtuck 
ill  the  opposite  side,  ulxmt  a  f(»ot  below  the  orifiee, 
whieh  conld  not  have  h:ii>pened,  iniUss  the  acei- 
dent  had  oecurred  in  th(>  nuiinier  1  have  described. 
Tlii-ee  attempts  were  made  to  recover  tlie  bodv,and 
the  hist  of  these  succeeded.  The  head  was  found 
nuich   bruised,   and   one   thii^h   ami   an   arm   were 


for  their  separate  inlieritances.  There  is  yet  an- 
other usa-^o  still  more  extraordinary — so  extraor- 
dinary, indeed,  that  I  took  ;:reat  jiains  to  inform 
nivself  upon  the  subject,  as  I  could  witii  ditticulty 
))rin<;  myself  to  ^ivo  credit  to  it  ;  yet,  however  in- 
eredil'le  it  may  seem,  1  feel  that  I  am  entitled, 
from   the  in<piiri(>s  I  niad(\  to  asseit  the  existeuci- 


broken.  In  all  ]>robabinty,  tlie  unfortunate  M.  i  of  the  usai;(>.  When  p(>i-sons  are  marrie.l,  in  what- 
Mouron  did  not  survive  tl'ie  descent,  which  was  I  ever  raidv  th<>y  uuiy  be,  the  ])ride  ]>asses  the  tweiity- 
ascert:iine<l  to  be  77;{  feet,  and  was  therefore  spared      four  houi-s  previous  to  the  celel)nition  of  the  eere- 


the  dreadful  consciousiu'ss  of  his  condition.  But 
who  can  iinaijine  the  horror  of  that  luomeiit,  when 
he  btund  the  prop  uive  way,  and  wlu-n  he  sunk  be- 
neath the  li:,dit  of  day  !  The  recollections  and  the 
hopes  of  a  lifetime  were  probably  crowded  into 
tliat  moment  of  aireiiy,  Souu'  susjucions  of  the 
^uide  were  at  first  i  ntertained  ;  but  when  the  purse 
of  the  unfortunate  M.  Mouron  was  found  ujnm  his 
j)erson,  tliey  were  of  course  at  an  end.  His  body 
was  iuterr;'d  in   the  church-vard  of  (Irindelwald  ; 


niony,  with  her  inteiuled  husl)and  ^'.s' ///.•  /ri/i  ;  and 
I  could  not  learn  that  a  refusal  to  ceU-brate  the 
marriage  had  ever  followed  this  uncommon  license. 
Unlike  many  other  parts  of  Switzerland,  nuir- 
riaj^es  in  this  valley  are  generally  marriai^es  of 
inclination. 

The  inhabitants  of  (Irindelwald  are  remarkable 
for  their  unwearied  industry.  The  elevation  of  the 
valley  above  the  sea  is  between  three  and  four 
thousand   feet.     The  cherry  is  the   only   fruit-tree 


scn]ttiun  : 

Aim6  Mouron,  Min.  du  S.  Ev. ; 

Cher  ii  I'Kglise  par  ses  talciis  et  sa  piet^. 

Ne  u  Chnrdroiinc.  dans  le  Canton  de  Vaiid, 

If  iii.  Ocrobre  17!M). 

Admiraiit,  dans  ccs  Montaj^ncs, 

Les  ouvrap'js  ina.'.rnifiqiu's  dc  Difn, 

Tomha  dans  nn  LjuuU're 

De  la  Mcr  de  Glace, 

le  xx.xi.  Aout  1S21. 


and  uo.)u  a   ])lain  marble  slab,  is  the  folio win,i,' in-  \  that  rij.ens  ;    and   wlieat   is   scarcely   a   ]u-oHtabIe 

'  crop.  Ibit  the  inhabitants  lose  uothin-^  that  ijidus- 
try  can  accomplish.  They  cultivate  excellen.t  bar- 
ley and  rye  ;  and  every  house  has  its  garden,  bearing 
abundant  crops  of  vegetabks,  and  such  fruit  as  tlu- 
climate  will  ripen.  When  1  left  the  valley  to  re- 
turn to  luterlaken  at  the  early  hour  of  four,  the 
peasants  wi-re  already  in  the  fields  busy  with  their 
hay-harvest.  'I'hen-  is  no  concentrated  village  in 
(irindilwald  ;  the  liouses  are  scattered  over  its 
whole  extent  ;  and  nowhere  in  Swif/.eriand  have 
I  fouiul  any  more  contented  with  their  lot,  than 
the  peasants  of  this  alpine  valley — none  more  sin- 
cere in  L'ivincr  to  their  abode  the  name  of  "the 
happy  valley." 

The  morninc:  following  trty  vi-^it  tt>  the  3f»T  (h' 
G/nci'f  I  left  (irindelwabl  ou  my  return  to  luter- 
laken, taking,  of  course,  the  short  road  by  the  baidv 
of  the  Black  Leutchen.  The  valley  of  the  Leut- 
chen  is  extremely  narrow,  and  is  remarkable  for 
the  dreadful  visitations  to  which  it  has  been  sub- 
ject. Fifteen  years  ago,  in  tlie  month  of  Jaiuiary, 
an  avalanche  swept  away  part  of  a  forest,  destroyed 
an  inn  which  stood  by  the  road-side,  and,  choking 
up  the  river,  caused  a  most  destructive  inundation 
throui,diout  the  valley.  U|)on  this  occasion,  the 
schoolmaster  of  Grindelwald  had  a  wonderful  es- 
cape. The  affairs  of  the  aubergiste  havint,'  got  into 
disorder,    he   applie<l    to   the  schoolmaster  to  look 


Ici  repose  son  corps, 

Retire  de  Tabyine  apres  12  jours, 

ParCli.  I!ur;,'eiien  de  (Irindelwald. 

Ses  ])nrer.s  et  ses  amis, 

rieiiraut  sa  mort  premature, 

bui  ont  eleve  ce  monument. 

The  inscription,  I  think,  is  faultless,  unless  per- 
lia]>s  tliat  the  word  iii>i</niji<fte  might  have  been 
omittetl. 

The  M,  r  il  a/iux'  of  Grindelwald  was  formerly 
occasionally  crossed  by  the  peasantry  before  any 
better  comnumication  was  opened  into  the  Val- 
fn'i!',  and  a  rmle  <diaptd  stood  lialf-way.  liut  an 
avalanche  destroyed  it  ;  and  it  is  said  tliat  the  bell 
belouiriui'  to  it  was  found  in  the  bed  of  the  Leut- 
eheii. 


'I'he  valley  of  Grindelwald  is,  upon  many  ac- 
counts, one  of  till-  most  remarkable  in  Switzerland,  '  into  them,  and  make  up  his  accounts  ;  and  accord- 
not  more  owing  to  its  natural  position,  than  to  the  j  ingly,  during  the  whole  of  the  day  upon  which  the 
state  of  the;  inhabitants,  ami  to  the  peculiarity  of  j  event  took  place,  the  schoolmastiT  had  been  in  the 
some  of  the  customs  ami  laws  which  obtain  in  it.  In  i  inn,  (Migaijed  with  the  affairs  of  the  aubergiste. 
no  valley  throughout  all  Switzerland,  are  the  inha-  I  When  nii,'ht  came,a  severe  storm  of  sn<»w  set  in  ;  and 
bitaiits  so  generally  placed  abov(>  poverty.  Their  ,  the  investigation  not  being  concluded, the  aubt-rgiste 
numbers  jimouiit  to  between  two  and  three  thou-  1  pressed  his  frii-nd  to  remain  till  morning,  setting 
sand  ;  and  there  is  not  out;  among  them  deiu'iidi-nt  forth  tlu-  dangei-s  of  a  walk  home  during  so  violent 
ui>ou  public  or  private  »-li:irity.  One  reason  may  a  storm  ;  but  tlu'  schotdmaster  answered,  that  he 
j)artly  e\)>lain  this  j)l|enomenon.  There  is  a  law  had  family-worship  always  at  eight  o'clock,  and 
])ecuiiar  t(»  this  valley,  which  forbids  the  transfer-  that  he  must  not  ne^K'Ct  his  duty.  He  acconliuLjly 
eiice  of  small  I'arcels  of  property.  A  man  must  left  the  inn,  and  bad  ]troci'<'ded  oidy  a  few  humlred 
Sell  all,  (U'  noiu> ;  he  cannot  sell  liis  mea<low-land  yards,  when  he  heard  behind  him  the  thunder  of 
without  his  niountain-^ra '.ini,'s  also,  nor  these  with-  ;  the  avalanche,  which  swept  away  the  house  he  had 


out  his  wood  ;  si>  that  the  multii>iii'ation  of  very 
small  proprietors,  .iinl  t'le  division  of  laud  is  checked. 
There  are  se\iral  other  carious  laws  and  usages 
peculiar  to  (.rindelwald— one,  among  othei-s,  Hiat  a 
man  cannot  iieipieath  his  [)roperty  to  his  chi'dreii 
bv  testam<nt,  or  accordini^  to  bis  own  wisius.  He 
must  divide  it  into  parts,  and  his  children  draw  lots 


just  (piitted. 

Lowir  down  the  valley,  there  are  traces  of  a  ' 
still  more  dnadful  visitation.  A  mountain  must  | 
there  have  fallen  ;  but  the  history  of  the  catas-  I 
tropin,'  has  not  come  down  to  our  tinu^s.  The 
gnuind,  for  the  >i'iei'  of  half  a  lea;iue,  is  strewn  j 
w  itli  <  iiornious  fragments  of  rock  ;  some  overgrown 


CHAP.  XVI.] 


THE  OBERLAND  BERNOTS. 


53 


with  grass,  some  with  trees  growing  out  of  their 
crevices,  and  some  broken  tqi  and  converted  into 
dikes  and  chalets,  'i'he  view  into  the  mountains, 
looking  back  from  the  valley  of  the  131ack  Leut- 
chen, is  magnificent.  The  whole  range  of  the 
highest  mountains  is  visible  from  several  jtoints  in 
this  valley — the  Finsteriuirhoru,  the  Shreckhorn, 
the  Wetterhorn,  the  Monck,  and  Motiiit  Eiger. 
Nitne  of  these  have  ever  been  ascended,  and  it  is 
believed  that  all  of  them  are  inaccessible  ;  l>ut  this 
cannot  be  ascertained  until  the  attempt  be  made, 
which  there  is  no  temptation  to  do  ;  because  the 
Jungfrau,  which  lies  in  the  same  range,  and  which 
is  higher  than  any  of  the  others,  has  been  already 
ascended  ;  and  the  triumph — at  all  times  and  in  all 
circumstances  foolish — would  upon  that  account  Ijc 
the  less.  The  sun  was  just  rising  when  I  looked 
back  ui>on  these  mountains  ;  and  the  peak  of  the 
Finsteraarhorn  alone  was  touched  l)y  its  rays.  If 
peaks  do  not  intercept  each  other,  sunrise  or  sunset 
offers  a  very  simple  mode  of  determining  their 
relative  altitudes. 

The  ilav  after  I  returned  from  Grindelwald,  I 
visited  the  lake  of  Brieutz.  In  navigating  this  lake, 
the  strong  curn'nt  of  the  Aar  renders  an  additional 
boatman  necessary  ;  and,  for  some  time,  the  progress 
is  even  then  extremely  slow.  Just  where  the  river 
Hows  out  of  the  lake,  I  noticed  another  liandsome 
l)uilding  (I  l)elieve  a  Ijoarding-house),  erected  upon 
a  beautiful  tongue  of  land,  which  has  the  river  on 
one  side'  and  the  lake  on  the  other.  1  found  much 
to  admire  in  the  lake  of  Brientz.  The  mountains 
that  environ  it  are  not  of  the  greatest  altitude,  but 
they  are  fine  in  their  forms,  and  beautifully  green 
ui)on  their  lower  declivities  ;  and  one  side  of  the 
lake  is  spotted  with  houses  and  hamlets.  The  colour 
of  the  lake  is  whitish,  arising,  as  is  said,  from  the 
complexion  of  the  Aar  as  it  flows  from  the  glacier. 
If  so,  it  dej)osits  its  impurities  in  the  lake  of 
lirientz,  because  it  flows  a  limpid  stream  through 
the  j)laiii  of  luterlaken  ;  and  the  lake  of  Thun, 
which  it  subsetiuently  enters,  is  dark -coloured.  1 
passed  a  beautiful  })eninsula — almost  an  island — 
about  half-way  u])  the  lake.  A  i)retty  country- 
house  stands  upon  it ;  and  the  whole  is  the  ])roperty 
of  a  Milanese  <;eneral,  who  made  the  juirchase  be- 
fore the  enactment  of  the  law  forbidding  the  acqui- 
sition of  property  by  strangers.  1  noticed  a  hand- 
some l)oat  coastiuLj  the  island,  with  the  Bourbon 
!la<;  Hying  at  the  stern.  It  i)robably  now  carries  a 
different  ensign, 

AfteT  a  charming  sail,  the  boat  was  moored  in 
the  little  cove,  close  under  the  well-known  cascade 
of  the  Giesliach.  1  had  heard  much  of  this  fall  ; 
and  although  1  never  expect  much  from  the  fall  of 
a  small  river,  yet  I  did  expect  something  from  a 
cascade,  of  which  everybody  spoke  in  terms  of  rap- 
ture. "  Have  you  seen  the  (Jii'sbach  ?"  is  almost 
as  common  a  (question  in  this  neighbourhood  as 
"  Have  you  been  on  the  lligi  ?"  is  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  i^ucerne.  I  was  much  disappointed 
in  the  Giesbacli.  It  is  merely  ])leasing,  somewhat 
picturesque,  but  not  at  all  striking.  The  water  is 
by  no  means  abundant ;  and  if  I  found  the  stream 
scanty  in  the  month  of  June,  when  the  snows  were 
fast  dissolviuiT.  and  in  a  rainv  season,  how  iiisii;- 
nificant  must  it  be  during'  tlu'  autumnal  drou[jhts  ! 
I'^verything  has  been  done  to  recommend  the  spot 
to  the  notice  of  strangei^s.  Here,  there  is  a  rustic 
lu-idge  ;  there,  a  little  gallery  ;  winding  paths  lead 


to  (VifTewnt  J xn/zfA-s  de  nie ;  and  a  house  has  recently 
been  erected  close  by,  where  the  organist  of  Brieutz 
and  his  family  live,  and  where  ]iarties  take  their 
pic-nic,  and  are  serenaded  by  the  organist  and  his 
family.  This  part  of  the  entertainment,  however, 
is  pleasing  enough.  None  of  the  voices  are  re- 
markably fine,  but  they  harmonize  well  ;  atid  the 
character  of  the  music  which  they  sing  is  interest- 
ing, Ix'cause  it  is  national  and  local.  There  is  an 
air  of  simplicity  and  rusticity  al)out  the  family 
rather  attractive.  This  may  possibly  be  affectation, 
or  it  may  not.  I  should  be  sorry  to  judge  harshly. 
The  lake  of  Brientz  is  dear  to  the  gourmand,  from 
its  being  the  habitation  of  the  Biieiitz  ling — a  fish 
that  is  said  even  to  exceed  in  flavour  the  far-famed 
Sardina. 

Imajjination,  without  which  the  traveller  cannot 
feel  the  charm  of  the  natural  world,  acts  also  as  a 
check  upon  his  pleasure.  It  is  owini;  to  the  activity 
of  this  faculty  that  our  exj)ectations  are  never 
realised  ;  because  imagination  has  already  i)ictured 
something  beyond  reality.  Nay,  even  while  con-" 
templating  a  great  object,  we  are  ai)t  to  imagine 
something  greater.  For  my  own  part,  I  confess 
that  nothing  has  ever  come  u[)  to  my  expectations, 
I  can  conceive  something  more  charming  than  even 
the  most  charming  of  the  Swiss  lakes^something 
more  majestic  than  the  greatest  of  its  mountains. 
There  is  no  scene  which  itnagination  may  not 
heighten — no  beauty  to  which  it  cannot  leiKi  ano- 
ther grace — no  sublimity  which  it  dare  not  attempt 
to  elevate.  When  1  have  stood  below  the  "  Mo- 
narch of  Mountains,"  I  have  imagined  a  mightier 
than  he.  The  ocean  in  storm  leaves  least  for  the 
imagination.  All  this  is  simjdy  the  power  of  mul- 
tiplication. Where  multiplication  can  add  nothing 
to  the  charm,  imagination  rests.  In  the  external 
world,  imagination  only  multii)lics  what  exists — 
strews  the  bank  of  the  lake  with  more  liowers  and 
finer  trees — and  places  Mount  Rosa  u])on  the 
shoulders  of  Mont  Blanc  ;  and  so  does  it  act  in 
some  of  the  works  of  art.  We  can  imagine  a  vaster 
building  than  the  Escurial — a  higher  than  the 
dome  of  St.  Peter's — a  greater  than  the  aqueduct 
of  Segovia  ;  but  we  cannot  add,  in  imagination,  to 
the  charm  of  })erfect  harmony — nor  iniaudtie  a  finer 
than  the  Apollo  ;  Ijecause,  in  these,  multiplication 
would  introduce  discord,  or  change  a  god  into  a 
monster. 

The  lake  of  Brientz  is  said  to  be  more  subject 
to  storms  than  any  other  of  the  Swiss  lakes.  The 
wind  which  had  carried  mo  so  agreeably  to  the 
Giesbach,  rose  into  a  st(U-m  wkdle  1  remained  there, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  wait  until  it  subsided.  The 
organist  produced  his  choicest  bottle  of  kirshwaser, 
and  another  round  of  songs  helped  away  another 
hour.  In  the  Swiss  inns  on  the  high  roads,  the 
traveller  will  seldom  meet  with  kirshwaser.  Unless 
he  knows  that  hnmense  quantities  of  it  are  made 
in  almost  every  peasant's  family,  he  will  be  at  a 
loss  to  account  for  the  consumption  of  so  great  a 
quantity  of  cherries  as  are  prcxluced  in  S\\  itzerland. 
There  are  various  (jualities  of  kirshwaser  ;  but  the 
genuine  liquor  is  madi;  without  the  assistance  of  j 
the  kernel  of  the  cherry.  That  in  which  the  kernel 
is  used,  is  not  so  wholesome,  and  is  always  consi- 
dered of  inferior  (juality.  The  storm  having  some- 
what abated,  I  left  the  Giesbach  with  the  intention 
of  dining  at  Brientz.  Indeed,  had  my  intention 
been  to  return  to  luterlaken,  1  could  not  then  liave 


■ns 


54 


TIIK  UBERLAND  BKRNUlS. 


[CHAF.  XVI. 


r  i 


ucc'oinj)li.she(l  it,  for  tlie  wind  was  still  too  high  to 
permit  the  ruivi;^'iiti()ii  of  a  small  boat  against  it. 

lirientz  is  a  pleasant  little  town,  and  the  inn  is 
admirable  ;  but  owing  to  the  accomplishments  of 
the  landlord,  who  adds  to  a  knowledge  of  cookery 
some  actjuaintance  with  the  French  and  English 
languages,  the  charges  are  not  remarkably  mode- 
rate. All  sorts  of  culinary  implements,  and  little 
vases  of  various  forms,  are  made  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Jirientz,  from  the  maple-wood,  and  are  ex- 
tremely beautiful  ;  but  they  are  made  chieHy  for 
Euirlish  travellers,  and  are  therefore  (War.  It  was 
past  nine  before  the  storm  had  altogether  subsided  ; 
and  about  half-past  ten  1  left  iJrientz  for  Interlaken, 
with  a  serene  sky,  a  full  moon,  and  a  calm  lake, 
gently  heaving  from  the  effects  of  the  st(jrm,  but 
smooth  as  crystal.  Rowing  up  the  bank  of  the 
hike,  I  could  ncjt  help  thinking  how  unsuccessful 
are  the  efforts  of  painters  in  their  representations 
of  moonlight.  The;  moon  itself  they  paint  well,  Imt 
the  light  of  the  moon  1  have  never  seen  represented 
with  truth.  I-ong  before  our  voyage  termuiated, 
morning  had  dawned  upon  the  mountains  ;  and  be- 
fore 1  reached  land,  the  highest  peaks  were  ready 
to  receive  the  golden  tints.  A  scene  like  this  is 
inexpressibly  beautiful  at  the  dawn  of  day.  The 
morning  air  was  waking  the  sleeping  lake  into  life  ; 
mountains  were  unveiling  themselves  ;  the  beautiful 
carpt  t  of  the  little  plain  was  gemmed  with  pearls, 
and  the  refreshing  rains  of  the  last  evening  had 
given  a  brighter  hue  to  the  meadows,  and  a  deeper 
tint  to  the  v  oods.  1  had  never  seen  Interlaken 
look  so  lovely. 

My  route  was  now  to  Vevay,  to  which  there  are 
two  roads  from  Inti-rlakeii  ;  one  returning  to  Berne, 
and  from  thence  to  Vevav,  which  is  the  road  almost 
invariably  taken  ;  the  other  direct  to  Vevay  by  the 
Sennuenthall.  The  first  part  of  this  latter  road  is 
extremely  bad,  and  the  inns  upon  it  are  very  dif- 
ferent from  those  found  on  the  more  frequented 
Swiss  roads  ;  but  if  this  road  were  more  frecjuented, 
the  Swiss  would  soon  hnd  it  to  be  for  their  own 
intei'est  to  erect  better  inns,  and  to  make  a  smoother 
highway.  After  leaving  Interlaken,  1  passed  through 
a  continued  orchard  of  cherry  and  apple-trees, 
which  cover  the  slopes  that  stretch  upward  from 
the  bank  of  the  lake  of  Thun.  Manv  charmin;' 
vistas  of  tin;  two  lakes,  and  of  the  j)lain  of  Inter- 
laken, are  discovered  from  these  slopt's,  and  many 
])leasant  ]»ietures  of  counti'y  liiV;  lay  around  ;  for 
the  bav-harvi'st  had  not  vet  ended,  and  the  in- 
gathering  of  fruit  had  begun. 

Between  Interlaken  and  the  head  of  the  valh'y  of 
Semmen,  1  saw  two  most  charming  spots — Spietz 
and  W'immis.  Sj»iet/.  is  the  last  village  which  the 
road  touches,  before  it  leaves  the  lake  of  Thun. 
Here  the  lake  forms  a  little  bay.  Upon  a  small 
eminence  stand  the  church  and  the  minister's 
housi',  with  a  charming  garden  stretching  into  the 
lake.  All  the  houses  of  the  village  are  white,  and 
each  is  detached  with  its  garden.  Round  the 
village  are  wcnxls  and  mea<lows,  ami  the  tjuiet  bay 
reflects  them  all. 

\\  inunis  is,  [lerhaps,  still  more  beautiful.  It  lies 
on  one  side  of  an  undidating  {)laiu — if  the  expression 
be  allowable — rich  in  every  kind  of  fertility,  and 
bounded  by  lofty  mountains  on  three  sidrs,  and  be- 
hind, and  on  eithersidi'of  the  village,  mounts,  covered 
to  the  highest  pinnacle  with  wood,  rist-  in  tlie  most 
pictures(iue  forms  to  the  height  of  (»()(>  or  J!()()  feet  ; 


and  near  the  summit  of  one  of  these,  arc  the  ruins 
of  a  chateau.  The  river  Sennnen  runs  close  to  the 
village,  the  houses  of  w hich  are  white  and  detached, 
like  those  of  Spietz.  In  the  garden  of  the  inu  at 
Winunis,  I  gathered  some  red  currant   berries  as 


large 


as    small    cherries,   and    some     raspberries 


twice   as    large   as   they   are    generally    found    iu 
England. 

At  Wimmis  begins  the  Si'mmenthall,  which 
stretches  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains  that  form  the 
noi'thern  boundary  of  the  lake  of  Geneva.  I  have 
seen  few  parts  of  Ssvitzerland  more  beautiful  than 
the  upper  part  of  this  valley — no  i>art  of  it  so  naute. 
I  should  think  it  nmst  be  ivnpossible  to  travel 
through  this  valley  without  being  conscious  of  an 
inward  cheerfulness  ;  it  is  fruitful,  smiling,  abun- 
dant, beautiful.  Tliere  is  no  sublimity  to  be  seen, 
scarcely  even  any  thing  of  the  pictures(iue.  The 
hills,  which  slope  gracefully  back,  are  covered  to 
the  sunnnit  with  a  varied  carjiet  of  meadow,  wood, 
and  corn.  Houses,  luunlets,  and  villages,  lie  thickly 
along  the  banks  of  the  river,  which  flows  through  a 
succession  of  orchards  and  gardens.  Here,  as  in 
other  parts  of  Sw  itzerland,  tlie  hay-harvest  was  not 
completed  ;  and  1  noticed  a  curious  mode  of  leading 
hay  from  a  steep  sIojjc.  A  man  collected  a  large 
load,  attached  it  to  his  body  with  a  rope,  and  seating 
himself  upon  the  ground,  slid  down  the  steep,  with 
his  hay-stack  behhid  him.  In  this  valley  the  num- 
ber of  cherries  is  really  incredible  ;  but  1  saw  no 
other  kind  of  fruit,  not  even  gooseberries,  in  the 
gardens.  It  seems  strange,  at  hi-st  sight,  that  in 
Switzerland  no  use  shouM  be  made  of  the  great 
([uantity  of  fruit,  especially  cherries  and  apples,  as 
a  comnu)!!  article  of  diet.  An  ai)ple  or  a  cherry- 
pie  is  never  seen  in  Switzerland.  The  reason  of 
this  may  probably  be  the  expense  of  sugar,  or  at 
least  the  habit  of  considering  all  foreign  commo- 
dities articles  of  luxury,  which  cannot  fail  to  be  the 
case  in  a  country  where  every  peasant  lives  upon 
the  produce  of  his  ow  n  property. 

I  p:ussed  the  first  night  after  leaving  Interlaken, 
at  Oberwyl,  and  next  day  1  walked  to  Chateau 
VYY^s^.  During  this  day's  journey,  the  valley  became 
more  contracted,  but  scarcely  less  beautiful.  Here, 
as  in  many  <)tlier  parts  of  Switzerland,  the  country 
appears  more  populous  than  it  really  is,  owhig  to 
the  great  number  of  houses  that  are  scattered  over 
the  valleys  ;  but  these  are  in  many  places  only  cha- 
lets, inhabited  during  a  few  months  by  the  person 
who  tends  the  cattle,  or  only  by  the  cattle  them- 
selves. During  the  forenoon,  1  passed  from  the 
valky  of  the  Simmen  into  that  part  of  Switzerland 
called  Saanenland,  and  dined  at  the  little  town  of 
Saanen.  This  is  the  beginning  of  the  most  famous 
cheese  country  in  Switzerland,  perhaps  on  the  con- 
tinent ;  for  it  is  here  that  the  celebrated  Gruycre  is 
made.  There  is  a  curious  law  in  this  valley  re- 
specting the  sup[)ort  of  the  poor.  Whatever  money 
is  given  to  parents  for  the  support  of  their  children, 
the  latter  must  repay  afterwards.  This  seems  to 
be  an  unjust  law,  because  it  visits  the  sins  of  the 
fathers  upon  the  children  ;  it  may  have  the  gooil 
elfect,  however,  of  rendering  the  former  prudent 
and  frugal.  The  wages  of  labour  in  this  valley  are 
about  "iUX.  ;  but  ev»ry  thing  is  not  upon  so  low  a 
scale.  The  rent  of  the  little  inn  where  I  dined, 
was  no  less  than  Wll.  All  along  this  line  of  road  1 
found  the  inns  nniarkably  cheap.  The  luxuries 
which  are  always  to  be  found   in   the   inns  on  the 


CHAP.  XVII.] 


GENEVA. 


55 


groat  Swiss  roads  were  not  indeed  to  lie  met  with  in 
the  Semmenthall,  or  in  Saanenland  ;  but  comfort- 
able accommodation  and  a  tolerable  dinner  are 
always  provided  at  a  very  moderate  price.  At 
Saanen,  I  was  charged  one  franc  for  a  good  dinner 
and  a  bottle  of  wine  ;  and  the  landlord  made  the 
demand  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  thinks  it  very 
(piestionable  if  his  demand  will  be  complied  with. 

Chateau  D'Ex,  where  I  arrived  late  in  the  ev^en- 
ing,  is  charmingly  situated.  I  arrived  thoroughly 
wet,  having  walked  during  the  last  throe  hours 
under  a  torrent  of  rain  ;  but  a  whole  familv  of  old 
ladies  who  keep  the  inn,  took  mo  under  their  espe- 
cial care — lighted  a  blazing  fire,  made  me  a  com- 
fitrtabk?  cup  of  tea,  and  bore  me  company  during 
the  evening.  Next  morning  1  left  Chateau  D'Ex 
for  Vevav. 

The  road  lies  through  the  valley  of  the  Saaue, 
and  ]»asses  near,  but  not  through,  the  town  of 
Gruvere.  No  cheese  is  made  in  Gruyere,  but  in 
the  different  villages  and  hamlets  in  the  valley  of 
the  Saane,  though  all  the  cheese  made  in  the  can- 
ton is  called  CJruyere.  The  best  cheese  is  made  at 
Albeauve,  between  Chateau  D'Ex  and  Gruyere. 
All  the  cheese  of  Switzerland  is  of  the  same  kind  as 
tluit  known  by  the  name  of  Gruyere,  excepting 
Chapsieger,  of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  and 
Neufchatel,  which  is  somewhat  different  ;  and  all 
the  cheese  made  in  every  part  of  Switzerland,  is 
sent  into  France  under  the  name  of  Gruycre,  ])ro- 
vided  it  is  not  too  delicate  to  bear  carriage.  But 
the  finest  of  the  Swiss  cheeses  are  consumed  iu 
Switzerland,  because  they  are  too  delicate  for  ex- 
])ortation.  At  Andermatt,  at  Saanen,  and  at  other 
jilaces,  1  have  tasted  cheese  far  superior  to  any  that 
can  be  bought  in  Paris.  In  the  year  D>21),  the 
Canton  of  Fribourg  exported  24,000  (juintals,  or 
2,400,000  lbs.  Generally,  throughout  these  valleys, 
and  in  the  commune  of  (jlruyere,  the  inhabitants 
are  above  poverty.  During  a  pai't  of  the  year, 
there  are  not  so  many  hands  in  the  cheese-country 
as  are  required,  and  these  are  of  course  borrowed 
from  other  and  poorer  communes.  Wages  are 
there  very  high,  in  comparison,  at  least,  with  most 
other  parts  of  Switzerland  :  they  are  about  2s.  (>d., 
exolusive  of  living. 

'J'he  finest  cattle  in  Switzerland  are  reared  in  this 
neiL,dibourhood  ;  and  in  these,  and  the  exjiort  of 
cliei-se,  consists  the  ])r(jsperity  of  the  Canton  of  Fri- 
bourg. At  the  fair  of  Bulle,  as  many  as  2000  head 
of  cattle  are  often  shown.  Friljourg  ought  to  be 
richer  than  any  other  canton  in  Switzerland  of  the 
same  size.  It  grows  sutticient  grain  for  its  con- 
sumption, its  meadows  rear  a  choice  breed  of  cattle, 
and  its  mountains  produce  cheese  renowned  all 
liver  the  world.  The  canton  is  rich,  but  it  might 
be  richer  ;  the  ])eople  are  comfortable,  but  they 
might  be  affluent.  The  same  reasons  that  affect 
the  ])rospority  of  the  Canton  of  Lucerne,  operate 
[trejudicially  upon  the  condition  of  Fribourg. 

Gruyere  is  a  striking  ol)ject  from  the  road  ;  and 
[  walked  up  the  mount  upon  which  it  stands.  The 
extent  of  the  ancient  castle  is  great,  and  in  other 
days  its  strength  must  have  defied  the  attempts  of 
a  leijion  of  bowmen.  It  is  said  to  be  more  than 
1200  veaiN  old.  As  I  continued  my  iournev  from 
Gruycre,  I  arrived  at  a  scene  of  singular  desola- 
ti(jn  ;  it  was  the  ruins  of  a  village  which  had  been 
burnt  on  the  sixth  of  the  ])receding  March.  It 
consisted  of  thirtv-eit'ht   houses,  and  thev  were  all 


consumed.  The  church  and  the  minister's  house 
alone  escaped,  which  I  need  scarcely  say  was 
looked  upon  as  a  miracle.  The  peasants  were  all 
busy  rebuildinjT  their  houses,  and  seemed  as  cheer- 
ful  as  if  their  labour  were  voluntary. 

The  descent  down  the  little  river  Vevaise,  to 
the  town  of  Vevay,  is  rapid  ;  and  a  small  part  of 
the  lake  of  Geneva  is  seen  below,  deeply  imbedded 
in  the  mountains.  I  was  now  in  the  Pays  de  Vaud, 
and  in  a  land  of  vines,  which  every  where  covered 
the  slopes  ;  and  before  reaching  Vevay,  I  passed 
many  pleasant  country-houses,  with  gardens  and 
orchards,  whose  produce  bespoke  a  milder  climate 
than  that  of  the  Oberland  Bernois. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  town  of  Vevay  particu- 
larly attractive.  Its  situation  is  its  charm,  and 
that  is  truly  delightful.  The  waters  of  Lake  Le- 
man  come  close  up  to  the  houses,  and  a  fine  shady 
promenade  extends  from  the  little  harbour  along 
the  bank  of  the  lake.  There  are  some  good  streets 
and  houses,  and  one  well-built  square,  open  towards 
the  water,  in  which  the  Hotel  da  Lon^ins  is  situated  ; 
Imt  I  selected  Lcs  trois  Couronn<':<,  which  is  in  every 
res])ect  an  excellent  hotel.  Here,  and  at  all  other 
places  upon  the  lake  of  Geneva,  the  Swiss  character, 
appi'arance,  customs,  and  dress,  are  lost  in  those  of 
France.  It  was  Sunday  when  I  arrived,  and  the 
promenade  was  crowded  all  the  afternoon  and  even- 
ing. No  characteristic  dresses  were  to  be  seen 
here,  as  at  Berne,  Zurich,  or  Lucerne  :  all  was 
French.  In  place  of  the  coarse  petticoats  of  home- 
manufacture,  the  knit  stockings,  the  picturesque 
hats,  or  grotesque  head-dresses,  were  seen  P'rench 
prints,  shawls,  celnturcs,  and  chapeanx.  I  should 
think  Vevay  a  delightful  place  of  residence  for  the 
autumnal  months  ;  for  it  is  in  autumn,  not  in  sum- 
mer, that  the  weather  is  to  be  depended  upon  in 
Switzerland.  There  is  more  than  one  boarding- 
house  at  Vevay  ;  and  lodgings  can  easily  be  had  at 
a  very  reasonable  rate.  Meat  of  the  best  quality 
does  not  cost  above  3d.  per  lb. ;  butter  is  about  8d. ; 
fish,  fruit,  vegetaldes,  and  wine,  all  very  low  in 
price.  The  bread,  too,  1  found  excellent  ;  and  this 
is  not  a  matter  of  minor  importance.  Vevay  is  not 
a  dull  residence.  The  coasting  trade  occasions  a 
little  l)ustle  at  all  times  in  the  harbour  ;  and  the 
arrival  of  steam-boats,  two  or  three  times  a  week, 
from  Geneva  and  Lausanne,  creates  a  little  variety. 
The  market-day,  too,  is  always  an  interruptit)n  to 
the  monotony  of  a  country-town.  As  for  the  en- 
virons of  Vevay,  they  are  enchanting  ;  and  a  boat 
on  the  lake  could  leave  nothing  to  desire.  Vevav 
wtis  the  refuge  of  Ludlow,  one  of  the  judges  of 
Charles  I.,  and  of  Broughton,  who  read  the  sentence 
of  death.  Their  tombs  are  in  the  old  church  of  St. 
Martin  ;  and  that  of  Ludlow  bears  this  inscription  : 
Acermiws  iiujuijiiator  arlntraricB  ijotestatls. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  LAKE,  CITY,  AND  CANTON  OF  GENEVA. 

Lake  Leman  and  its  Phenomena — Visit  to  Chillon — Clarens 
— Rous.seau — Byron — Enchanting  Scenery — Lausanne- 
Lausanne  as  a  Residence — John  Kenible — Gibbon's  Li- 
brary— (ieneva — Manners  and  Morals  of  the  Genevese — 
the  City  and  Canton — Voltaire. 

The  "reat  charm  of  all  this  country  is  the  Lake  of 
Geneva,    more  commonly  known  in   the  P(Vis  dc 


56 


GENEVA. 


[chap.  XVII. 


Vaud  us  Lake  Leman.  The  lake  is  eighteen  leagues 
in  length,  and  varies  in  ])readth  from  one  to  three 
leagues.  Its  greatest  dej)th  is  000  feet,  and  its 
height  above  the  Mediterranean  is  1150  feet.  As 
a  whole,  I  do  not  greatly  admire  the  lake  of  Ge- 
neva ;  but  there  are  parts  of  it  at  least  equal  in 
beauty  and  grandeur  to  any  thing  that  is  to  be 
found  elsewhere.  The  charms  of  the  lake  of  Ge- 
neva are  not  seen  in  sailing  from  Villeneuve  to 
Geneva.  There  are  innumerable  charming  little 
bays,  which  must  be  individually  explored  ;  but  all 
the  upper  part  of  the  lake  is  eminently  fine.  Draw 
a  line  from  Vcvay  across  to  the  Savoy  side,  including 
Vevay  on  one  side  and  Meillcrie  on  the  other,  and 
the  part  which  you  thus  cut  off— a  fifth  part,  per- 
haps, of  the  whole— cannot  be  rivalled  by  any  thing 
that  T  have  ever  seen. 

Every  lake  has  its  wonders,  and  Lake  Leman  is 
not  without  them.  In  summer,  it  rises  from  five  to 
six  feet  above  its  winter  level.  It  experiences 
sudden  oscillations  of  several  feet.  It  never  freezes  ; 
and  the  Rhone  traverses  it  without  mingling  with 
its  waters.  The  first  of  these  phenomena  is  at- 
tempted to  be  explained,  by  ascribing  the  rise  to 
the  miltinG:  of  the  snows  ;  but  I  incline  to  agree 
witli  an  intelligent  writer,  in  doubting  whether  so 
extraordinary  a  rise,  over  a  surface  of  twenty-six 
>.[uan'  leagues,  can  be  entirely  attributed  to  the 
cause  assigned.  With  respect  to  the  second  phe- 
nomenon, other  lakes  as  well  as  Lake  Lenuin  are 
subject  to  sudden  rises  and  falls  ;  and  these  have 
generally  been  considered  to  be  the  result  of  elec- 
iricitv,  aetiiiLT  in  one  or  other  of  its  many  fomis 


acclivity— gentle  at  first,  but  afterwards  steeper, 
and  crowned  with  the  old  walls  and  towers  of  Cha- 
teau Chatelard.  It  is  more  a  concentration  of  ham- 
lets than  a  village  ;  and  the  walnut  and  fruit-trees, 
and  weeping-wiil(»ws  that  surround  and  mingle  with 
it,  form  a  perfect  rallnmhrom.  All  the  way  to  Chil- 
lon  the  country  continues  charming;  and  everj- 
moment  the  massive  walls  of  the  castle  become  a 
more  prominent  o])ject  in  the  magnificent  picture 
that  stretches  around. 

Independently  of  the  historic  mterest  of  Lhillon, 
it  is  interesting  from  the  beauty  of  its  situation, 
from  its  forming  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  ob- 
jects in  one  of  the  most  enchanting  scenes  in  the 
world.  The  castle  is  built  upon  a  rock,  which,  m 
former  times,  must  have  fallen  frt)m  the  neighbour- 
incT  mountain  ;  and  both  the  strength  of  its  position, 
aiiTl  the  strength  of  its  walls,  have  more  than  once 
enabled  it  to'  make  a  stout  resistance  in  times  of 
trouble.  A  drawbridge  leads  into  the  castle ;  and 
I  was,  of  course,  conducted  into  the  dungeons. 
The  history  of  these  dungeons  is  known  to  every  | 
one.  The  principal  dungeon  is  large,  cold,  but  not  ' 
dark.  Several  stone  columns  run  along  the  nuddle 
of  it ;  and  to  three  of  these  are  still  attached  the 
rings  to  which  prisoners  were  cliained.  It  has 
often  been  repeated,  that  these  dungef>ns  are  below 
the  level  of  the  lake  ;  but  this  is  an  error.  The 
fioor  of  the  dungeon  is  about  the  average  level  of 
the  lake.  In  spring  and  autumn,  their  level  is  the 
same.  In  summer,  the  level  of  the  lake  is  some- 
times  from  two  to  three  feet  above  the  floor  of  the 
dungeon,  and  in  winter  as  nuich  below  it.     liut  al- 


tricitv    actni""  ni  one  or  oiner  oi   us  miin\  luim:^.  i  '.-■•^ ■> -  i.„u  „„,i 

uuu\,  aiiu._,   ii  MiK.  1  .      •  •      ..    r,      tl.oiurli   these   dun'^eous  are  not  quite  so  dark  and 

A^  to   ts  never  Irec/ui".   I  am  bound  to  ;:ive  credit  i  iuoul^u   iutt.c   uuu^v  v*"--'  "*^  ^   ,  .    i      ^i 

AS  TO  us  u<  v»  1  juv  /.ni_,    I  .1111    --   u  e,  honn  r.M.resented  to  be.thev  are 


to  the  testimony  of  thos;>  w  lio  reside  upon  its  banks  ; 
but  it  is  not  diilicult  to  believe  that  deep  water 
should  retain  a  higher  temperature  than  tlie  in- 
cumbent atmosplu  re.  And  as  ro  the  last  of  the 
phenomena  named  — that  the  Rhone  traverses  the 
lake  without  mingling  with  its  waters — it  is  too  ab- 
surd to  need  refutatiou.  This  could  not  be,  unless 
the  itu])«>tus  of  the  Rhone  were  able  to  cou(|uer  the 
resistaiiee  of  the  waters  of  the  lake — which  is  a 
ridiculous  sup])osition. 

The  (lav  after  I  arrived  at  Vevay  1  dedicated  to 
Clarens  aud  Chillon.  1  left  Vevay  about  four 
o'clock,  takhig  a  carriaL,'«>  as  far  as  Cjiillou,  where 
I  sent  it  back,  that  1  might  enjoy  alone,  and  at  lei- 
sure, the  interesting  and  delii,ditful  scenery  of  these 
beautiful  and  almost  classic  sp(»ts.  I  was  particu- 
larly fortunate  in  the  choice  of  an  evening.  The 
wi-a'ther  ha<l  been  unsettled  for  a  week  previous  to 
my  arrival  at  Vevay  ;  but  the  sanu>  evening  it 
cleared  up  ;  and  as  1  passed  aloug  the  shore  of  tlu' 
lake  towards  Chillon,  all  was  beauty — be^iuty,  sere- 
nitv,  and  lU'itose.  About  a  mile  from  V^evay,  turn- 
ing a  headland,  the  head  of  the  lake  opens  to  view, 
w  ith  Chillon's  gi*ay  walls  ri-ing  out  of  the  water, 
and  reiiosiiiir  airainst  the  dark  woods  that  lie  be- 
hind. 

"  Clart'iis  !   sweet  Clarens  !  birth-i>l;ire  of  deep  love," 

who  could  ])ass  thee  by  ?  lb  re  it  was  that  Rous- 
seau dreamed  the  dream  that  has  made  hhn  immor- 
tal. Tlu'se  scenes  are  peopled  with  the  creations  of 
his  fancy  ;  and  scarcely  can  we  forliear  iunuiiinu', 
when-  is'the  dwelling  of  Julie  '.  Clarens  was  doubi- 
hss  Rousseau's  lj<<in  olud  of  natural  beauty  ;  and 
who  is  there  that  will  ([uarrel  with  his  choice  {  It 
lies  in  a  bay  within  a  bay,  and  climbs  up  a  gentle 


damp  as  they  have  been  represented  to  be,  they  are 
bad  enough  to  have  served  as  a  fitting  receptacle 
for  the  \  ictims  c>f  tyraimy. 

The  chief  historic  interest  attaching  to  the  cas- 
tle of  Chilhm,  is  its  connexion  with  the  name  of 
IJonnivanh  who  inhabited  its  dun-.'ou  dnrhig  six 
vears.  Although  every  one  knows  the  history  of 
liounivard,   1  cannot  entirely  pass  it  over. 

Francois  H.^nnivard,  loiil  of  Lume,  was  born  in 
\VM\,  an<l,  in    his   very  larly  youth,  he  fell  heir  to 
the-   rich    priorv   of  St.  Victor,  which    lay   close   to 
(leiieva.       Wlun    iho    duke   of    Savoy   madi>    war 
upon  the  republic,  Ik.Miuvard  zealously  opposed  his 
encroachments,  and  thus  incurred  his  resentment. 
In  the  year  lolC,  when  Ronnivard  was  twenty-three 
yeai-s  old,  the   duke  of   Savoy  entered  (ienesa,  and 
'lionnivard  Hed  in  the  direction  of  Fribourg  ;  but  he 
was  overtiiken  aiul  seized  by  command  of  the  duke, 
an<l  was  made  to  taste  captivity  lirst  in  tlu-  (Jrolee, 
where  he  was  a  jirisoner  two  years.     When  his  hn- 
priseMimuiit  ended,  he  returned  to  the  priory  ;  and, 
in  ir)2H,  he   was   in  arms  against  the  possessors  ot 
his   ecclesiastical    revenues.      Upon    this    occasion, 
the  citv  of  tieneva  supi>lietl  him  with  the  means  of 
ci)ml.ati!ig  for  his  rights ;  and  he,  in  return,  sold  his 
birthright  to  the  city.     Snbsetiueiitly  to  tins,  Ron- 
nivard "t-mi)loyed  his  talents  in  the  secret  sirvice  ot 
the  repul)lic;  and,  in   the  year  lolii^,  wheu  travel- 
ling between    Moudon   and    Lausanne,  he   was  at- 
tacled,    probably   by   emissaries   of    the    duke   of 
Savoy,  and  was  inade  prisoner,  and  delivered  up  to 
tlu-   dukt',  who  sent   hhn   to  tlie    castle  of   Chillon, 
where  he  remained  six  years.     Ronnivard  was  then 
thirty-three  years  old.'    It   is  impossible  to  know 
whether  he  was  chain<-d   to  any  of  the  pillars  to 
which  rings  are  attached  ;  but,  in  such  a  dungeon. 


CITAl'.  XVII.] 


GENEVA. 


57 


one  would  be  apt  to  think  chains  superfluous.  Ty- 
ranny, however,  is  inventive  in  cruelty,  and  it  may 
have  been  so  exercised. 

In  March,  1536,  the  Bernese  took  the  castle  of 
Chillon,  and  Ronnivard  was  liberated  from  capti- 
vity. I3ut  his  troubles  did  not  end  here.  In  con- 
sefiuence  of  the  Genevese  refusing  to  pay  his  debts, 
he  quarrelled  with  them,  and  claimed  restitution  of 
his  priory  of  St.  Victor.  The  dispute  was  referred  to 
the  pope,  who  decreed  to  him  800  crowns,  besides 
a  pension  for  life  of  140  crowns  ;  and  after  a  suc- 
cession of  quarrels  and  difficulties,  he  died  in  1571, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-five.  Twenty  years  before 
his  death,  he  presented  all  his  books  to  the  Gene- 
vese republic ;  and  these  are  still  seen  in  the 
public  library  of  the  city,  where  also  some  of  his 
unpublished  manuscnpts  remain — among  others,  a 
History  of  Geneva. 

But  the  associations  of  Chillon  with  the  name  of 
Bonnivard  are,  after  all,  but  of  very  remote  and 
very  partial  interest ;  and  his  sufferings  in  the 
cause  of  liberty  carry  us  back  to  so  distant  a  time, 
that  our  sympathies  are  but  feebly  excited ;  be- 
sides, the  object  of  his  exertions  seems  to  have  had 
more  reference  to  the  preservation  of  his  own  pos- 
sessions, than  to  any  higher  purpose.  But  how,  in 
those  days,  could  this  be  otherwise  I  The  poetry  of 
Byron  has  tj;iven  to  Chillon  a  warmer,  and  perhaps 
a  more  abiding  interest :  as  the  captivity  of  Bon- 
nivard, as  the  blaze  of  Rousseau's  eloijuence,  and 
the  fervour  of  his  imaginati(m,  have  surrounded 
ClartMis  w  ith  a  halo  of  almost  supernatural  beauty — 
so  has  the  poetry  of  our  bard  thrown  around  the 
prison  of  Chillon  a  glory  that  cannot  die. 

The  person  wlio  aceom}ianies  strangei's  through 
the  castle  of  Chillon,  seems  to  take  pleasures  in  re- 
])eating  the  partleulai's  of  loi'd  Ryron's  visit  to 
the  castle.  He  arrived  in  the  afternoon  in  a  cha- 
lonj)e.  He  visited  every  nook  in  the  castle,  and 
spoke  very  little  to  his  conductress,  who  stoutly  as- 
serts, that  the  name  R)yron,  seen  upon  one  of  the 
jiillars,  was  carved  by  him.self.  This  mail  be  true, 
Init  it  is  certainly  imi)robable.  No  one  who  has 
visiti'd  Chillon  on  such  an  evening  as  that  by  which 
I  was  favoured,  can  ever  forget  the  scene.  I  lin- 
gered long  near  it,  and  can-ied  away  a  remembrance 
from  one  of  the  fig-trees  that  shoot  out  of  its  walls. 
Returning  to  Vevay,  1  ascended  to  the  church-yard 
of  Montreux,  and  enj()yed  from  it  the  most  enchant- 
ing prosi)ect  that  I  ever  recollect  to  have  seen. 
The  lake,  dappled  with  the  thousand  hues  of  e*^en- 
iii^,  lay  stretclied  l)elow  ;  all  its  wooded  bays  and 
creeks,  and  little  promoiitiu-ies,  standing  out  in  fine 
relief,  touched  by  the  iroldeii  Vvj^wl  of  evening.  The 
great  mountains  of  the  V<tf/<(ii>,  towei'ing  into  the 
•Serene  skv,  had  covered  themselves  with  their 
bri'^'hti'st  vi'stiii  'Mt  ;  fVtr  the  gorgecjus  west  streamed 
u]>oii  their  pinnacles  and  fields  of  snow,  veiling  its 
|)urity  in  a  robe  of  j)ale  carnation.  Around  was 
the  deep  foliage  of  summer — below  lay  Clarens, 
minified  with  the  waters  of  the  lake — and  o])j^osite 
were'  the  rocks  of  Meillerie,  alreadv  forsaken  l)v 
the  sunbeams,  and  thriiwing  their  shadows  forward 
into  the  glassy  mirror.  Chillon,  dark  and  stern, 
reposed  in  shade  in  its  deep  traucpiil  l)ay.  All  was 
very  still.  One  blackbird  now  and  then  sent  up, 
from  a  low  dell  beiu'ath,  its  unanswered  iiote.  One 
or  two  lizards  ai)peared  and  disappeared  ui)on  the 
;,'ray  wall  that  bounds  the  churel)  yard.  Tiu'  old 
eliurch,  too,  and  its  sacred  precincts,  gave  a  soin- 


breness  to  the  scene  ;  and  the  jasmine  that  covered 
its  walls,  sent  around  as  sweet  a  fragrance  as  ever 
mingled  with  the  summer  air.  In  leaving  the 
church-yard,  I  noticed  the  following  inscrii)tion 
placed  above  a  bolte  aux  paurres:  "  Toi,  qui  viens 
admirer  nos  rians  paysages,  en  passant,  jcte  ici  ta 
piti^  aux  malheureux,  et  le  Dieu  dout  la  main  des- 
sina  ces  rivages,  te  be'nira  dcs  cieux  1" 

Long  before  I  reached  Clarens,  the  sun  liad  set ; 
and  the  reader  will  excuse  me,  when  1  acknowledge 
that  I  lingered  a  while  by  the  margin  of  the  lake, 
and  strolled  up  one  of  the  little  wmding  roads  that 
lead  round  the  houses  and  orchards,  scrutinizing 
them  as  keenly  as  if  I  might  have  chanced  to  see 
through  Julie's  parlour  window  ;  or  Julie,  her  cou- 
sin, and  St.  PreiLx,  seated  in  tlie  bosquet.  It  was 
quite  dark  when  I  reached  Vevay.  The  supper- 
table  was  laid  out,  and  I  sat  down  with  a  large 
party  of  English,  just  arrived  in  the  steam-boat 
from  Geneva,  and  taking  this  road  to  the  Simplon 
and  classic  Italy.  One  of  them,  hearing  me  speak 
of  Chillon,  asked  if  I  had  been  tliere,  and  if  it  were 
true  that  lord  Bvron  had  one  of  the  dungeons  fit- 
ted  up  as  a  bed-room  ! 

Next  morning,  I  left  Vevay  for  Lausanne,  in  a 
small  boat,  with  tAvo  boatmen.  Between  Vevay 
and  Lausanne,  the  banks  of  the  lake  present  a  con- 
tinuous vineyard.  This  seemed  to  me  far  from 
beautiful,  after  having  been  accustomed  to  the  ver- 
dure of  the  mountains  of  Brientz  and  the  Seramen- 
thall. 

There  is  scarcely  any  city  in  Europe  better  known 
to  travellers  than  Lausanne.  Every  one  visits  Lau- 
sanne ;  and  there  are  many  who  select  it  as  a  sum- 
mer residence.  For  my  own  part,  I  would  greatly 
prefer  Lausanne,  were  it  situated  close  to  the  lake  ; 
for  its  great  elevation,  as  well  as  its  distance  from 
the  water,  are  unpleasant  drawbacks  upon  the  en- 
joyment of  an  evening  stroll  along  the  banks  of  Lake 
Leman.  But,  with  this  single  inconvenience,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  Lausanne  is  a  delightful 
place  of  residence.  There  is  no  doubt,  too,  that  it 
is  ffreatlv  more  healthv  than  Geneva.  This  is 
proved  bv  the  bills  of  mortalitv,  and  is  certainlv 
to  be  attributed  to  its  greater  elevation  above  the 
water. 

Lausanne  is  at  present  a  flourishing  city.  I  no- 
ticed many  new  houses  erecting,  and  very  few  old 
houses  to  let.  Several  public  buildings  were  also 
newly  finished  ;  among  others,  the  Mdlmn  de  Force. 
The  inhabitants,  too,  are  steadily  on  the  increase  ; 
and  the  number  of  resident  strangers  is  also  greater 
everv  vear.  When  I  visited  Lausanne,  there  were 
about  200  resident  English,  forming  a  society  alto- 
gether independent  of  the  natives.  There  are  some 
eheajier  }>laces  of  residence  than  Lausanne ;  but 
no  one,  i  believe,  where  education  is  cheajjer  or 
better.  It  does  not  cost  above  one-fourth  of  its 
price  in  England  ;  and  I  have  good  reason  to  know, 
that  most  of  the  English  resident  at  Lausanne  have 
been  attracted  to  it  in  consequence.  It  is  pleasant 
to  think,  that  there  exists  any  plausible  reason  for 
absenteeism.  There  can  be  little  doubt,  that  the 
intention  of  those  who  banish  themselves  from 
their  native  country,  that  they  may  educate  their 
children,  is  good  ;  but  whether  the  determination 
be  wise,  is  a  different  question.  For  it  may  admit 
of  a  doubt,  whether  it  be  wisdom  to  go  abroad  in 
quest  of  an  education,  which  the  means  of  the  ab- 
sentee do  not  permit  him  to  give  to  his  family  in 


58 


GENEVA. 


[chap.  XVI). 


England.  1  louse-rent  is  decidedly  lower  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  most  of  the  English  provincial 
towns,  than  it  is  in  Lausanne,  and  the  necessaries 
of  lih-  are  not  greatly  dearer ;  and  for  a  family  in 
the  middle  ranks  of  life,  an  education  quite  as  suit- 
able may  perhai)8  be  procured  in  Exeter,  Chester, 
Noi-folk,  or  Derby.  The  following  are  the  prices  of 
different  articles  at  Lausanne  : — Meat  the  same  as 
at  Vevay  ;  butter  8d.  or  9d.  per  lb. ;  bread  1  Jd.  or 
2d.  per  lb. ;  eggs  from  4d.  to  «d.  a  dozen,  accoi'd- 
ing  to  the  season;  fowls  Kid.  to  18d.  a  pair;  a 
duck  Is.  4d. ;  a  turkey  3s. ;  wine  of  a  tolerable  (jua- 
lity  5d. ;  fish  are  generally  i)lentiful,  and  reasonable 
in  price  ;  and  vegetables  and  fruit  abundant. 

A  week  may  be  very  pleasantly  spent  at  Lau- 
sanne. The  inns  are  extremely  good,  and  not  ex- 
cessively expensive ;  and  at  the  principal  tabhii 
'/7/«^,  the  traveller  will  find  an  excellent  and  even 
t'legant  repast.  There  are,  besides,  seveml  good 
coffee-rooms,  where  the  best  French  and  Swiss 
newspapers  are  regularly  received.  The  prome- 
nades on  every  side  are  beautiful,  and  the  excur- 
sions various  ;  and  let  me  not  forget  one  spot  where 
a  day  may  be  delightfully  s])ent  by  the  lover  of 
Howers — the  garden  of  Ikiiiaud,  who  possesses  no 
fewer  than  4(»0  varieties  of  the  carnation. 

Lausanne  may  boast  of  some  objects  of  interest, 
iiidcj.endent  of '  its  situation,  or  of  the  (ujraixnii 
which  it  offers.  There  may  be  some  who  would 
scarcely  reckon  among  these  the  monument  erected 
in  the  cemet'itre  to  the  memory  of  John  Philip 
Kenible  ;  and  yet,  who  has  not  been  accustomed  to 
associate  with  the  productions  of  Shakspeare  their 
b<'st  inttrjtreter  I  This  monument  cannot  be  de- 
void of  interest  to  him  who  remembers  the  godlike 
Roman,  or  the  lover  of  the  gentle  Ophelia. 

But  the  name  of  (ubl)on  is  associated  with  Lau- 
sanne ;  and  his  library  still  remains  in  the  con- 
dition in  which  he  left  "it.  I,  of  couse,  visited  it.  It 
is  tolerably  large  ;  but  more  remarkable  for  the 
selection  of  the  best  works  and  best  tnlitions,  than 
lor  its  extent.  1  notice<l  (»n  the  shelves,  four  copies 
of  his  own  great  work,  thrt'f  of  them  translations  into 
forehjn  laii<jua<i<'s,  Fnnch,  Gfrman^  and  Jfalian,  com- 
l)f,f,)l  (Innixj  his  own  I'tfthiN:  With  how  ])roud  a 
feeling  nuist  lie  have  deposited  upon  tluir  shelves 
these  best  rewards  of  his  labour  !  The  fourth  coi)y 
1  have  mentioned  is  the  Basil  edition  in  English, 
which  is  even  now  the  favourite  edition  of  the  work 
throughout  (Germany.  I  also  noticed  upon  the 
shelves  several  editi(jns  of  the  Bible. 

Lausanne,  after  lUrne,  Zurich,  and  Geneva,  is 
the  largest  city  of  Switzerland.  It  contains  uj)war(ls 
of  10,000  inhal)itants,  and  is  the  capital  of  tlu-  Can- 
ton de  Vaud,  The  whole  canton,  one  of  the  largist 
in  Switzerland,  contauis  L'jO,000  persons,  almost  all 
professing  the  protestant  religion.  This  canton 
enjoys  the  finest  climate  in  Switzirland,  and  is  the 
onlv  one  in  which  wine  is  the  staple  j)roduce.  The 
constitution  is  democratic.  The  inhabitants  are, 
ui)(»n  the  whole,  little  dejaHssKl  by  poverty.  Edu- 
cation is  very  generally  spread  ;  and,  altogether, 
thv  Pai/s  lie  \^aii(f  pirhajis  merits  the  name  that 
has))een  given  to  it — Lc  J''ir'ii/is  il,  la  ^^iititse. 

I  left  Lausanne  for  (ieneva  by  the  steam-l)oat, 
which,  although  extremely  conveni«nt,  hai-monizes 
but  indifferently  with  the  pictures({ue  and  beautiful ; 
and  the  banks  of  the  lake  are  somewliat  tame  after 
having  Lausanne;  and,  if  one  navigated  Lake  Le- 
man  no  higher  than  Lausanne,  its  claims  to  beauty 


might  probably  be  questioned.  As  a  whole,  it  is 
undoubtedly  much  inferior  to  the  lake  of  Zurich. 
As  we  passed  down,  the  house  of  the  Do  Stacl 
family  was  pointed  out  to  me  ;  and  also  the  house 
formerly  occupied  by  Joseph  Buonaparte.  It  is 
said  to  be  his  jyroperty  still.  1  reached  Geneva 
about  four  o'clock,  and  ^  as  fortunate  enougli  to  find 
a  vacancy  in  the  Eai  de  Gentre,  a  hotel  which,  with 
a  thousand  recommendations,  possesses  one  fault. 
It  is,  at  all  times,  ten  to  one  against  finding  a  spare 
corner  in  it. 

Geneva  is,  from  its  history,  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable and  most  interestmg  cities  of  Europe. 
Long  the  metropolis  of  the  refonned  church,  its 
connexion  with  the  name  of  Calvin  is  alone  sufh- 
cient  to  hivest  it  with  interest.  Calvin  was  elected  to 
the  chair  of  theology  in  the  year  153(>,  and  died  in 
15(i4,  after  having  founded  the  college,  the  academy, 
and  the  library.  Well  may  Geneva  be  proud  of  a 
name  to  which  millions  owe  the  light  of  rational 

religion. 

The  stranger  will  find  it  difficult  to  discover  m 
Geneva  any  trace  of  the  puritanism  and  severity  of 
manners  for  which  that  city  was  so  renowned  in 
earlier  times.  1  was  never  among  a  livelier  or 
gayer  population.  Amusement  seemed  to  be  the 
reigning  i)assion,  and  religion  little  less  a  matter  of 
form  than  it  is  in  France  on  Sunday.  After  listen- 
ing to  a  favourite  preacher,  the  Genevese  flock  to 
the  theatre.  The  shops  of  Geneva  also  are  open  on 
Sunday,  the  same  as  on  other  days,  and  every  man 
plies  his  trade  as  usual.  The  gaiety  of  the  Genevese 
is  chiefiy  seen  on  Sunday  ;  for  the  citizens  of  Ge- 
neva are  most  of  them  engaged  in  trades  that  recjuire 
application  and  close  confinement— no  fewir  than 
'Mm)  of  the  2:i,(»00  inhalntaiits  being  engaged  in 
watch-making  and  gold-working.  The  number  of 
watches  made  in  a  year  is  said  to  be  somewhat  be- 
yond 70,000  ;  and  of  these,  at  least  OO.OOO  are  of 
gold.  In  these,  and  in  the  jewellery  trade,  between 
70,000  and  H0,000  ounces  of  gold  are  t  niployed,  and 
about  50,000ouncesofsilver.  A  considerable  (iuunlity 

of  precious  stones,  particularly  pearls,  are  empl(»y(  il 
in  jewellery,  and  in  the  embellishment  of  watches, 
aniounting  in  value,  as  1  was  informed,  to  20,000/. 
sterling  yearly. 

There  are  many  bad,  and  some  good  streets  in 
Geneva  ;  and  both  within  and  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  town,  an-  many  pleasant  {uo- 
nunades,  among  others  the  botanic  garden  ;  but  1 
rcukarked  that  the  Genevese  preferred  the  streets, 
and  left  the  shady  walks  nearly  deserted.  The 
Ilhone  divides  the  city  into  two  uneiiual  parts,  antl 
is  spanned  by  several  woodin  Itridgts.  it  is  beau- 
tifully blue,  but  is  certainly  not  so  rapid  as  the 

Keuss. 

'f he  Canton  of  Gen(>\a  is  extremely  small  — the 
least  in  the  confederation.  It  is  composed  of  the 
territory  of  the  ancient  re|)ublie,  and  of  certain 
parts  of'Savoy  added  to  it  by  the  congress  of  Vii  nna, 
and  secured  by  the  treaty  td"  Taris.  At  the  same 
time, the  ct»nstitutionof  the  republic  was  remodelled. 
its  government  is  now  representative.  Tlie execu- 
tive part  of  it  is  comjiosed  of  a  council  of  twenty- 
ei"htmembersandf»)ur  svndics,or  chief  nuejistrates, 

all  of  whom  are  elected  by  the  council  of  rei>resin- 
tatives,  amounting  to  27}!  uiembers^formerly  called 
the  council  of  two  hundri  <!.  These  representatives 
are  elected  by  the  citizens,  who,  in  t)rder  to  enjoy 
the  riuht  of  votinir,  must  be   twciity-five  years  old, 


CHAP.  XVIII.] 


LYONS. 


b\) 


and  pay,  in  dii'ect  taxes,  about  fifteen  francs  per 
annum. 

Geneva,  previous  to  the  French  revolution,  had 
long  been  the  scene  of  violent  political  dissensions. 
The  form  of  government  was  democratic  ;  but  cer- 
tain families  were  constantly  seeking  to  establish  a 
permanent  aristocracy.  In  1783,  in  consequence 
of  certain  disputes  between  the  citizens  and  the 
council  of  state,  the  latter,  in  order  to  preserve  their 
power,  invited  foreign  troops  to  enter  their  ter- 
ritory, and  Geneva  was  taken  j)ossession  of  by  the 
troops  of  France,  Sardinia,  and  Berne.  This  was 
the  first  examj)le  of  interference  on  the  part  of 
foreign  states  with  the  internal  governments  of 
other  territories — an  example  that  was  afterwards 
quoted  by  the  empress  Catherine,  when  she  inter- 
fered with  the  affaire  of  Poland,  and  which  was  fol- 
lowed upon  a  greater  scale,  and  with  more  fatal 
I'esults,  by  the  allied  sovereigns,  when  they  forced 
a  Bourbon  upon  the  French  nation. 

Before  leaving  Geneva,  1  visited  Ferney  ;  but 
with  the  writuigs  of  Voltaire  I  have  no  sympathies; 
and  when  1  recollected  the  ct)mfox'ts  and  luxuries 
with  which  he  was  surrounded,  and  the  adulation 
that  every  where  waited  upon  him,  my  mind  re- 
verted to  the  lake  of  Bieune,  and  the  solitary 
dreamer  of  St.  Peter's  Isle. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FROM  GENEVA  TO  LYONS LYONS. 

Change  of  Scenery  in  passing  from  Switzerland  into  France 
— The  Perte  de  la  Rhone — Lyons — The  Quay  of  the 
Rhone — The  Inliabitants — Paris  Influence — The  Quay  of 
the  Soane — Fourviers. 

To  the  traveller  who  journeys  from  Switzerland, 
the  route  between  Geneva  and  Lyons  scarcely  pos- 
sesses the  interest  which  it  deserves  ;  because,  with 
the  bolder  and  more  captivating  scenery  of  Switzer- 
land fresh  in  his  memory,  the  comparatively  milder 
scenery  that  lies  between  Geneva  and  Lyons  seems 
tjime  and  unattractive.  But,  under  any  other  cir- 
cumstances, it  would  be  considered  highly  interest- 
ing. The  course  of  the  Rhone  is  marked  by  many 
picturescjue  views,  preserving  nmch  of  the  character 
of  Swiss  scenery  ;  and  gradually,  as  it  flows  east- 
ward, the  scene  changes.  The  bed  of  the  river 
becomes  shallower  ;  the  rocks  less  precipitous  ;  the 
wild  abruptness  of  the  Swiss  landscape  is  lost  in  the 
soft  undulations  of  the  Li/onnois  ;  and  the  river,  no 
more  an  impetuous  torrent,  battling  with  huge 
rocks  that  jut  from  its  bank,  or  half  choke  its  bed, 
flows  through  the  fertile  fields  of  France  with  gentle 
force  and  graceful  bendings. 

I  was  particularly  struck  with  a  view  which 
opened  upon  us,  just  as  dusk  was  fading  into  dark- 
ness. It  was  a  long  narrow  lake,  of  a  j)eculiarly 
dreary  character,  along  which  the  road  winds  its 
whole  way,  and  which  possesses,  in  the  eye  of  the 
traveller  who  has  taken  farewell  of  Switzerland,  a 
kind  of  adventitious  interest,  by  bringing  with  it  a 
renewiil  of  the  scenes  which  he  thought  he  had  left 
for  ever.  It  is,  in  fact,  like  the  face  of  a  friend  re- 
turned, from  whom  we  had  sorrowfully  parted.  A 
little  farther  than  this  lake,  there  is  a  descent  of 
extraorilinary  length  and  rapidity,  markhig  the  na- 
tural bonndary  between  France  and  Switzerland, 
though  the  conventional  boundary  has  long  been 


passed.  This  descent  made  me  sensible  of  the 
marked  difference  in  temperature  between  the 
plains  of  France  and  the  high  lands  of  Switzerland. 
In  the  early  part  of  the  evening  I  had  felt  the  cold 
inconvenient  ;  but  when  I  had  descended  into  the 
plains,  although  it  was  then  midnight,  1  threw 
aside  my  cloak,  and  yet  felt  the  heat  oppressive. 

The  Perte  de  la  Rhone,  which  cuts  so  great  a 
figure  on  the  page  of  the  traveller,  might  almost 
be  denominated  a  take-in.  I  followed  the  example 
of  all  other  travellei's,  and  scrambled  down  a  rugged 
bank,  steep  and  slippery  from  i-ain,  to  see  this 
famous  marvel  ;  but  I  saw  nothing.  The  guide 
said  the  Perte  was  to  be  seen  only  when  the  river 
was  low  ;  but  that,  at  that  time,  there  was  too 
much  water  to  be  lost.  As  I  apj)roached  Lyons, 
the  views  expanded ;  the  eye  ranged  over  a  wide 
and  fertile  country  ;  and  soon  the  irregular  masses 
of  building  below,  and  the  villas  that  crown  the 
heights  above  the  river,  aimounced  the  vicinity  of 
Lyons.  A  gradual  descent,  and  a  long  suburb,  led 
to  the  Quay  of  the  Rhone  ;  and  I  established  my- 
self in  the  Hotel  de  L'Europe,  the  only  unexcep- 
tionable hotel  in  the  city. 

It  is  at  Lyons  that  we  first  perceive  our  approach 
to  the  regions  of  the  south.  People  seem  to  live 
more  in  the  open  air.  Trades  even  are  carried  on 
without  the  drawback  of  rent.  The  lower  orders 
appear  to  look  upon  covering,  even  for  the  body,  as 
not  at  all  indispensable  ;  and  ices  and  iced  water 
supply  the  place  of  ponrhe  a  la  Jtoina'uu.  In  the 
houses,  too,  the  confines  of  a  soutlurn  climate  are 
visible  ;  the  rooms  are  generally  nearly  dark,  the 
art  in  warm  countries  being  to  keep  out  the  sun, 
and  even  the  hot  air  ;  and  the  floors  begin  to  be 
covered  with  brick.  All  this  seems  comfortless 
and  gloomy  to  a  ti-aveller  who  arrives  from  Swit- 
zerland, with  the  many  charms  of  the  Swiss  inus 
fresh  in  his  recollection. 

The  evening  of  my  arrival  in  Lyons,  I  began  to 
perambulate  the  city  ;  and  chance  first  conducted 
me  to  the  Quay  of  the  Rhone,  in  every  way  worthy 
of  a  great  city,  whether  from  its  great  extent  and 
breadth,  or  from  the  buildings  that  line  it,  A  great 
part  of  the  quay,  close  to  the  river,  is  occupied  by  a 
bazaar,  a  long  row  of  low  shops,  open  in  front,  dis- 
pla}'ing  all  kinds  of  commodities  of  inferior  order  ; 
and  there  is  every  where  visible  that  throng  and 
bustle  that  indicate  a  populous,  busy,  and  commer- 
cial city.  But  I  do  not  recollect  to  have  ever  seen, 
in  any  of  the  great  manufacturing  towns  of  England, 
so  nmch  to  remind  one  of  the  fatal  vicissitudes  of 
trade,  in  the  spectacles  of  poverty  and  wretched- 
ness that  every  moment  presented  themselves  ;  and 
it  struck  me,  that,  among  the  lower  orders  of  the 
city,  there  seemed  to  exist,  in  a  remarkable  degree, 
the  elements  of  turbulence  and  civil  commotion, — 
The  look,  air,  and  expression  of  the  unemployed 
workman  of  Lyons,  has  nothing  in  it  of  uncomj)lain- 
ing  sutterance.  He  caiTies  an  air  of  defiance  in  his 
countenance  ;  and  sohcits  alms  in  the  manner  of 
one  who  thinks  he  has  a  right  to  partake  the  pui'se 
of  another,  who  weai*s  a  better  coat  than  himself. 
Three  years  before  I  visited  Lyons,  28,000  persons 
were  employed  in  the  silk  manufactories  ;  and  three 
years  later,  in  tlie  year  1829,  when  1  again  visited 
it,  not  more  than  one-fourth  part  of  this  number 
was  required, 

I  continued  my  walk  beyond  the  city,  to  the  spot 
where  the  Soane  merges  its  tranc^uil  waters  in  the 


(>() 


DESCENT  OF  THE  RHONE. 


[chap.  XIX. 


impetuous  current  of  the  "  arrowy  Rhone.  Here, 
at  the  confluc  nee  of  these  great  rivers,  Napoleon 
boL'an  the  erection  of  a  pahico  ;  and  no  site  could 
have  been  better  chosen  ;  but  his  purp(>se  v^an 
frustrated  by  the  events  that  destroyed  ahke  the 
prospects  of  his  ambition  and  his  caprice. 

In  returning  to  tlie  hotel,  1   passed  through  the 
jrreat  square,  La  IHace   lielUroar ;    ^vluch   mdeed 
lies  in  its  immediate  neighbourhood.     It  was  now 
almost  dusk  ;    and  the  sciuare  was  crowded  with 
the  middle  and  upper  classes,  who  now  enjoyed  the 
mild  coolness  of  a  delicious  evening,  after  the  op- 
i.ressive  heat  that   had  conHned  them  all  day  to 
their  twilight  apartments.     There  is  scarcely  any 
difference  perceptible  between  the  upper  and  mid- 
dle classes  in  Lyons  and  in  Paris,   La  nuxk  in  I'aris 
is  hi  mule  all  over  I'raiiee.     The  important  air  and 
display  ("f  tine  linen  among  the  men,  and  the  trip- 
pin-'  step,  and  charming  btmneis  and  frills  among 
tlie"vomrn,  are  e-iually  cliaraeteristie  in  the  Place 
Brllrrnnr  of  Lvoiis,  as  in  the  Tuilleries  of  Paris— of 
that  nation  which  contains  the  vainest  men,  and 
the  best  dressed  women  in  the  world.     "  Vice  la 
,j,il,.t^  /"_"  [^Icf  l(t  Ixuf'iteUe r  seemed  to  be  as  well 
un(l(>rstood  there  as  in  the  metropolis  ;  hut,  here 
and  tlu  re,  1  remarked  one  of  those  countenances  I 
had  seen  on  the  quay,  eyeing  the  triHei-s  who  sat 
eating  ice  ;  and  reeiivini:,  at  th(>  doors  of  the  r^f/i-s 
fn'.|iu  lit   alms  from   tlir  light-luart.d  Fiviielmim, 
who,  with  all  their  faults  and  absurdities,  are  good- 
natured  ;  and,  notwithstanding  their  pai-simony,  are 
fn-nerally  ready  with  a  i>>>ii»  for  im  inU(:rnl>l<\ 
"  The  Phu-c  )l,Utrn,ir  of  Lyons  is  a  much  finer 
square  than  the  only  square    in   Paris,  tin;  Plaw 
Va/jAow;    and    the  greater  i)art  of  it    has  been 
ei-ected    since   the   revolution    of    IVi'^L       At    that 
peri.Hl,  it  was  the  scene  of  dreadful  outra-o.     The 
(h-slruction  of  this  squan-  was  mad<-  a  republican 
t'(t,'.    The  infamous  barbarian  (outhon,  who  was  too 
inhrm   to  walk,  was  carried  round  the  J'/xre  on  a 
palaiKpiin,  and  gave  the  signal  of  (hstruetion  by 
striking  the  eoiuh  nineil  liousr  uith  a  small  hammer, 
saving'^at  the  same  time,  ''  Malsoiiyje  te  frappc  de 

mart!"  .        . 

''■  You  must'  by  no  means  omit  ^oincj  to  the  top 
of  the  hill  of /''e«/-n(/-.s"   is  the  inir.netiuu  of  every 
,,iR-   you  sp.  ak  with  at  Lyons.     This  r. minded  me 
of  the  uni\<r^al  question   at    Luceiiu-,  ''  Ihivoyou 
been  up  the  Kiiii  i"      l'>ut   thero  is  always  some- 
thin-'-  in  thise  in")uneti<iiis  ;  and  as  the  distance  was 
oiily^  pleasant  walk,  I  r>solv<'d  not  to  omit  profit- 
in-*bv  the  advice.     On  tli.-  roa;l    1    juissed,  for  the 
fir"st  Vmie,  across  the  t^uay  of  the  »S*((/;.',  which  1 
thouu'ht  still  tintr  than   the  t^uay  of  the  Rhone. 
The'Uhone  skirts  the  city  ;  the  .Soane  traverses  it. 
The   bank   of  the    Rhone,  opposite  to  the  (luav,  is 
ilat  ;  the   l)anks  of  the   Soaiie  are   lofty,  esi)eeially 
the  north  bank,  which   is  in.leed  beautiful,  viewed 
irom  the  bridi;e-  presi  ntin^r,  as  it  does,  s«.  eliarm- 
iiij;  a   varirty  of  town  and  country  :    for  gardens 
mrn;,de  with  the  houses  that  stand  uiion  its  acclivi- 
ties piiul, above  tliese,a  fine  raii-e  of  wooded  heights 
stretch  d*»wn  the  river,  spiiiikicd  with  the  eouniry- 
housis  of  the  inliabit.mts.      In  contemplating  this 
am-eeable  pros])eet,  it    is  bt  tu  r  not  to  turn  the  eye 
below,  towards  the  river  ;  because  its  inu.bly  watrrs 
nfusi-  to  reflect  in  their  bosom  the  scenes  that  lie 
alon-   the  banks,  and  rather  impair  than  improve 
the  effect  (»f  the  view. 

i'rom  the    Uii'iv  ••*'   ^^'^'   Soane,    I    ascended   to 


Fourvicr  by  a  steep  winding  path,  from  which,  at 
every   turn,    new   and    agreeable    glimpses    were 
caught  of  the  city  below  and  the  country  beyond. 
1   should  prefer,  if  this  were  possible,  to  reach  the 
.summit  of  an  elevation  blindfolded,  because,  before 
we  arrive  at  tlie  TiritaUc  points  de  nie,  it  has  lost 
much  of  its  noveltv,  by  the  many  snatches  we  have 
already  taken  in  'ascending.     The  view  from  the 
summit  is  imposing,  standing  upon  the  spot  from 
which  pope  Pius  VII.  blessed  the  city.      To  the 
east,  the  snowy  summits  of  the  Alps  tower  into  the 
sky  'but  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  the  clouds 
or  vapour  that  mingle  with  them  ;  while  the  moun- 
tains of  Dauphinv,  lower  and  more  distinct,  stretch 
towards  the  south.     Looking  towards  the   south- 
west, the  eye  follows  the  course  of  the  wide  and 
flittering    Rh(me,   flowing  between  the  wine-clad 
acclivities  that  skirt  the  Lyonnais  ;    while  below, 
the  city,  environed  by  its  two  rivers,  stands  sur- 
rounded by  fertility. 

My  object  now  was,  to  reach  Avignon  ;  and, 
having  learnt  that  a  steam-boat  left  Lyons  twice  a 
week,  and  descended  the  Rhone  to  Avignon  in  one 
day,  1  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  so  easy  and 
.x'p'editious  a  mode  of  being  carried  to  the  south  of 
France;  and  I  anticipated,  besides,  great  enjoy- 
ment from  the  scenery  upon  the  banks  of  this  cele- 
brated river,  which,  although  in  Switzerland,  and 
at  (jt  neva,  familiar  to  every  tourist,  has  few  travel- 
lei-s,  and  fewer  chronielei-s,  between  Lyons  and  the 
Me(iit*rranean.  With  Dauphiny,  Provence,  and 
Lan-uedoc,  who  is  there  that  has  not  pleasing 
associations  i  and  although  my  e.\pectations  were 
doomed  to  be  afterwards  bitterly  disappointed,  I 
stepped  uito  the  boat  full  of  pleasant  fancies,  and 
with  very  e.veited  antieipatioas  of  a  delightful  voy- 
age and  much  enjoyment. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DESCENT  OF    THE   RHONE. 

Scenery  of  the  Rhone  between  Lyons  ami  Vicnne— Tlic 
Cute  Iluti  Vineyard— Cciamerce  on  tlie  llhone— Indica- 
fatiuiis  of  IIi-:it,  and  Discomforts— Dauphiny  and  Lan- 
guedoc— The  "  Herniitajie"  Vineyard— Valenee— St.  Peray 
Vineyards— Surtlrin!,'s  frcmi  Heat— Aecidenti.— Dangerous 
Navigation  of  tlie  Ithone— Tlie  Rapid  of  the  Pent  de  St. 
Ivsprit—Seenery— Approach  to  Avignon,  and  Arrival- 
More  Accidents. 

At  five  in  the  morning,  the  lioat  h  ft  the  river-side 
at  Lyons,  and  it  was  proniisid  by  the  mastir,  that, 
in  tlnrteeii  hours,  we  shi)uld  bo  in  Avignon— a  dis- 
tance, by  water,  of  not  loss  than  a  hundred  and 
fifty  miles.  It  was  a  singularly  beautiful  nn.rning. 
The  sun  had  but  luwly  arisiii,  and  was,  as  vet, 
hieffectual  ;  only  tlu-  balmy  iniidness  of  a  summer 
morning  was  felt  ;  and  a  slight  air  from  the  south, 
.scarcely  cool  in  ii-v  It,  w;u<  wood  hito  sullieit-nt 
streiiuth,  by  the  rapid  nioliou  of  the  bout,  to  lift  tlu- 
stnamer  from  the  mast-head,  and  to  be  i-efreshin-; 
to  tlu-  unglovi'd  hand  or  uncovered  brow.  On  such 
a  delicious  morning,  how  could  the  voyage  be  other- 
wise than  charming  i  Rut  the  eaptain's  predietu.n 
at  parting,  ''  ^I'uiis  (tnrou^  dc  la  diuLur  aujoiird  hut,  ' 
proved  too  well-ieiUiuU'd. 

Retwicn    Lnoiis   ami    Vienne— the  first  town  of 
any  consi-quence  lying  on  the  l)ank  of  the  river 
vvi-  shed  through  asuccessioii  of  the  most  charming 


CHAP.  XiX.] 


DESCENT  OF  THE  RHONE. 


61 


scenery.  Sometimes  the  Rhone  swept  past  fertile 
meadows  or  corn-fields — sometimes  between  thick 
and  laden  orchards — sometimes  under  high  banks. 
i)icturesque,  and  clothed  with  wood  ;  and  freijuent 
villages  stood  close  to  the  water,  or  nestled  at  the 
foot  of  the  heights  that  lay  back  from  the  river, 
leaving  narrow  plains  or  stripes  between  them  and 
the  stream, 

Vienne,  situated  under  a  high  cliff,  and  the  castle 
u])on  its  summit,  is  a  striking  and  beautiful  object  in 
descending  the  river  ;  but  it  is  after  passing  Vienne 
that  the  scenery  becomes  most  attractive  ;  for  there 
is  now  a  perfect  union  of  the  beautiful  and  the  pic- 
turesque. Naked  rocks,  crowned  by  ruined  castles, 
rise  from  the  midst  of  gardens  and  orchards  ;  and 
the  bold  and  precipitous  banks  advancing  into  the 
river,  contract  its  impetuous  current,  and  force  it 
into  frequent,  though  not  dangerous  rapids.  These 
are  to  be  encountered  lower  down.  It  is  here  also, 
about  a  league  and  a  half  afu?r  passing  Vienne, 
where  the  vineyards  lie,  so  celebrated  for  their 
produce  of  Cote  Jioti.  A  little  plain  lies  by  the 
side  of  the  river,  covered  with  c«n"n,  and  sprinkled 
with  fruit-trees ;  and  abcmt  half  a  mile  back  from 
the  stream  are  the  heights  or  co/«  that  produce  the 
Rhone  wines.  The  hill  upon  which  the  Cote  Potl 
is  grown,  stands  somewhat  isolated  from  the  other 
ranges.  It  is  about  half  a  league  in  length,  and 
about  a  mile  in  breadth,  from  the  foot  of  tlie  hill  to 
the  summit,  where  the  vineyard  terminates.  The 
hill  is  rock,  covered  with  a  very  scanty  soil.  This 
is  the  only  vineyai'd  producing  the  true  Cote  Roti; 
but,  like  all  other  esteemed  wines,  its  reputation 
enriches  all  who  are  fortunate  enough  to  possess 
vineyards  in  its  vicinity  ;  and  accordingly,  the  pro- 
duce of  all  the'  adjoining  ^o^>-,  although  distinguish- 
able by  the  cnninn^t^fi  <ir  from  hi  prciuliri'  (//udllc  of 
Cote  lioii  (which  is  in  fact  the  true  CoU:  lloti),  finds 
its  way  into  the  French  and  foreign  markets,  and 
piisscs  as  the  genuine  ]>roduce  of  that  esteemed 
vin(>yard.  It  is  at  the  cost  of  much  toil,  and  many 
anxieties,that  we  drink  the  produceof  any  celebrated 
viui'yard.  The  labours  of  the  husbandman  are 
incessant,  and  often  abortive.  Tlie  management 
tjf  a  dcjlieate  vine  allows  no  intermission  of  toil. 
Digging,  watering,  weeding,  smoothing,  pruning, 
staking,  tying,  and  gathering,  fill  up  the  entire  year  ; 
and  all  this  labour  may  l>e  frustrated  by  a  storm  of 
hail  or  a  swarm  of  insects  ! 

lietwt;en  Vieiine  and  Valence  we  met  several 
boats  ascending  the  river,  draggecl  by  horses.  1 
noticed  two  boats,  with  twenty-seven  horses  at- 
tached to  them  ;  some  of  which  were  (jl)liged  to 
swim.  The  navigation  of  the  Rhone  must  be  both 
tedious  ami  exi>ensive.  Every  boat  that  descends 
the  river  with  merchandise,  must  have  another 
boat  attached,  carrying  hoi-ses  to  drau;  it  uj)  again. 
The  traii-it  from  .Vviguon  to  Lyons  occujiies  a  fort- 
night. 

So  far  our  voyage  had  been  pleasant.  The  rapid 
motion  of  the  boat  had  carried  us  a  long  way  be- 
fore the  sun  had  aetpiired  jj^reat  power  ;  and,  uj) 
to  this  time,  the  light  air  f'ro.n  the  st>uih  had  eon- 
tinued  :  but  a  breathless  calm  had  now  succeeded  ; 
and  till'  sun  every  moment  acquiring  new  })0sver, 
the  heat  bei;an  to  be  felt — i>assiiig  through  all  the 
gradations  of  small  to  great  incoiiveuience,  and  at 
length  becoming  insupportable.  This  day  at  Avig- 
non the  thermometer  rose  in  the  shade  at  one  p.m. 
to  98*^  of  Fahrenheit.     Our  boat  had  no  awning  ; 


there  was  no  shelter  ;  and  tliere  was  not  even  a  pos- 
sibility of  sitting  down.  It  chanced  next  day  to  be 
a  fair  at  Ijiuuixurc,  the  largest  fair  in  the  south  of 
France ;  and  the  manufacturers  of  Lyons  had  na- 
turally taken  advantage  of  the  steam-boat,  to  carry 
themselves  and  their  goods  thither.  There  were 
no  fewer  than  three  hundred  and  forty  passengers  ! 
1  need  scarcely  say,  therefore,  that,  with  .so  enor- 
mous a  quantity  of  goods  on  board,  and  the  boat 
being  by  no  means  large,  one  dense  mass  of  per- 
sons crowded  the  deck.  There  was  not  a  vacant 
spot.  To  sit  down  even  upon  deck,  I  have  already 
said  was  impossible  ;  and  as  for  the  cabin,  it  was 
not  only  crowded  as  much  as  the  deck,  but,  from 
its  small  dimensions  and  confined  air,  reminded  me, 
when  1  attempted  to  enter  it,  of  what  1  had  read  of 
the  Black  Hole  at  Calcutta.  And  let  it  be  recol- 
lected, that  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky  ;  that 
the  rays  of  the  sun  shot  fiercely  down  upon  the  un- 
protected heads  ;  and  that  the  air  occasioned  by 
the  motion  of  the  vessel,  could  only  reach  the  for- 
tunate few  who  had  succeeded  in  stationing  them- 
selves in  front.  1  need  say  nothing  more  of  the 
really  pitiable  condition  in  which  we  found  our- 
selves. Heat  such  as  this,  I  had  never  before  ex- 
perienced, and  tjod  forbid  I  should  ever  experience 
it  again.  Many  pei*sons  were  seriously  unwell. 
One  young  Englisliman,  in  particular,  w  ho  seemed 
at  times  to  lose  the  jterfect  command  of  his  intel- 
lect, turned  to  me,  with  an  inflamed  countenance, 
and  said  he  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  that  he 
was  resolved  to  throw  himself  into  the  river  ;  and 
it  was  not  witliout  difficulty  that  I  succeeded  in 
tranquillising  him. 

Between  Vienne  and  Valence,  we  passed  some 
ruined  arclu'S  of  a  Roman  briilge  in  the  centre  of 
the  river  ;  and  we  also  passed  under  two  suspen- 
sion-bridiros,  one  ne.ar  Vienne,  the  other  before 
reachintr  Valence.  We  hud  now  left  the  Lvonnais, 
and  had  Dauphiny  on  one  side,  and  Languedoc  on 
the  other  ;  two  provinces  whose  names  cannot  fail 
to  awaken  romantic  a.ssociations  in  the  minds  of  all 
who,  in  the  .season  of  youth,  have  fed  the  imagina- 
tion upon  tlie  writings  of  Anne  Radcliffe.  Reality 
is,  however,  a  sad  enemy  of  romance.  Nothing 
could  be  less  allied  with  romance  than  a  crowded 
steam-boat,  and  the  groanings  of  human  infirmity  ; 
and  although  the  banks  of  the  river  were  always 
agreeable,  and  sometimes  charming,  they  possessed  1 
nothing  of  the  character  of  romance.  There  were 
neither  forests  nor  gloomy  chateaux.  The  country 
on  both  sides  was  fertile,  and  for  the  most  part  flat, 
till,  at  Toanioii,  about  a  league  before  reaching 
Vnli  iici:,l\\ii  bank  rose  into  the  hill  which  produces 
the  celebrated  wine  called  Ileriultiige.  The  extent 
of  the  llennitage  vineyard  is  about  three-quarters 
of  a  league  long,  and  half  a  league  broad.  The 
c<'>f<'  upon  which  it  is  cultivated  is  upon  the  left 
bank  of  the  river,  and  it  is  therefore  a  Dauphiny 
wine  ;  but  Hermitage,  Cote  Roti,  St.  Peray  and  St. 
George,  are  all  known  in  France  under  the  general 
name  of  wines  of  the  Rhone.  I  need  scarcely  say, 
that  the  limited  vineyard  of  Hermitage  is  totally 
inadequate  to  sujqdy  the  demand,  and  that  neigh- 
bouring vineyards  supply  the  dculxitnie  and  troisltme 
(jU'difis  of  this  esteemed  wine. 

Valence  lies  jileasantly  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
river,  surrounded  by  a  fertile  country,  abounding 
in  mulberry-trees,  almond,  and  many  kinds  of  fruit- 
trees — among  them   a  few    figs.     Opposite  to  the 


62 


DESCENT  OF  THE  RHONE. 


[chap.  XIX. 


town,  a  conical  lull  rises  close  to  the  Rhone ;  and 
at  the  distance  of  about  a  mile  beyond  Valence,  a 
long  range  of  vine-covered  hills  runs  parallel  with 
the  riv(>r.  Part  of  those  produce  the  ditterent  spe- 
cies of  St.  Penuf,  a  wine  comparatively  little  known 
in  England,  biit  which  will  no  doubt  find  its  way 
into  tiie  English  market,  along  with  many  other 
delicate  and  unknown  wines,  now  that  the  enlight- 
ened policy  of  the  British  government  has  equal- 
ized the  duties.  The  Mousseiur  St.  Peray  is,  to  my 
mind,  greatly  superioi',  as  a  dessert  wine,  to  the 
best  C'hanipagne. 

After  passing  Valence,  the  luat  bt-came  more  and 
more  insupportable  ;  and  an  accident  which  hap- 
pened to  the  machinery,  in  place  of  being  regarded 
as  a  misfortune,  was  welcomed  as  a  blessing,  for  it 
purchasfd  a  sliudit  respite  from  the  real  sutlerings 
which  tile  laat  intlieted.    It  was  found  necessary  to 
run  the  boat  ashore,  aihl  we  received  the  agreeable 
permission  to  leave  the  vessel  till  the  maehinery  could 
be  put   to  rights.      There   was   fortunately  a  ehinip 
of  nuilberry  and  other  trees  at  l)Ut  a  short  distance 
from  the  bank  ;  and  their  welcome  shade  was  soon 
occupied  by  all  who  luul  the  courage  to  walk  along 
the  narrow  plank  from  the  boat  to  the  shon-.     The 
luxury  of  tiiis  half-hour  was  eomi^lcte.     Divesting 
myself  of  part  of  my  clothing,  I  lay  among  the  long 
grass,  cooling  my  mouth  with  oranges,  which  1  had 
providently  Itrought   with  nu-  from  l.yons.     Miu-h 
amusement  was  excited  by  tlu'  timidity  of  a  })riest, 
w  ho,  after  he  gt)t  on  shore,  could  not  fiiul  courage  to 
return  on  board  the  vi-ssel.    One  of  the  passengers, 
seizing  the  priest's  arms  behind,  ])ushed  him  along 
the  phmk.     The  i)riest  screamed,  the   passengers 
laughed  ;   but   the  priest,  suddenly  freeing  himself 
from  his  tormentor,  autl  running  forward,  the  other 
lost  his  balance,  and  fell  into  the  river.     It  was 
with   some  ditticulty  he  scrambled  out ;  but  I  be- 
lieve there  was  nobody  that  did  not  envy  him  the 
di]). 

Wo  had  not  descended  another  league,  when  the 
nuichinery  was  iv^a'm  found  to  be  out  of  order  ;  and 
at  the  spot  where  the  vessel  was  again  obliged  to  be 
put  ashore,  the  distance  between  it  and  the  bank  was 
too  great  to  allow  the  plank  to  l)e  laid.  And  here  we 
were  obliged  to  remain,  exposed  to  the  burning  sun, 
and  tantalised  with  the  view  of  a  delightful  shaded 
slope  not  forty  yards  distant.  Two  or  three  of  the 
passengei-s,  however,  found  the  temptation  iiTesist- 
ibU'  ;  and,  plun;,dng  into  the  river,  which  was  about 
four  feet  doejt,  reached  the  shore  and  the  sha«le, 
and  were  Ijrought  back  to  the  boat  with  the  assist- 
ance of  ropes.  The  machinery  l)eing  again  put  in 
ordir,  we  once  more  gt>t  into  the  stream. 

The  navigation  of  the  Rhone  has  always  been 
accounted  dangerous,  owing  to  the  rapids  ;  and  in 
descnding  some  of  these,  many  accidents  have  oc- 
curred. In  the  month  (»f  dune,  \i\2H,  a  j»arty  of 
])!( asure  consisting  of  se-ven  persons,  descinding 
irom  Lvons  in  a  small  boat,  all  j>erished,  the  boat 
Inning  turiu'd  in  a  wliirljiool,  and  struck  the  arch 
in  pa-s  ng  beneath  the  foiif  <h-  St.  K^i>nt.  Wt>  were 
now  approaching  this  bridg(>,  and  the  dangerous 
rapid  beneath  it.  The  chimney  of  the  boat  was 
entirely  lowered,  and  every  one  was  ordered  to  sit 
down,  or  lie  uj)on  deck  ;  an  order  which  could  not 
be  obeyed,  owing  to  the  crowd,  and  for  which, 
therefore,  an  injunction  to  stoop  as  low  as  every 
one  saw  to  be  necessary,  was  substituteil.  The 
prospect  in  ai>proaching  the   Pont  de  St.  Eq^rit   is 


sufficiently   alanning ;   the    arches  seem  scarcely 
wide  enough  to  admit  the  vessel,  and  so  low  as  to 
tin-eaten  every  one  upon  deck  with  being  swept  into 
the  river.     The  alarming   appearances  of  course 
somewhat  diminish  in  approaching  nearer,  though 
they  still  retain  enough  of  the  same  character  to 
create  the  strongest  excitement ;  and   the  i-apidity 
of  the  river,  too,  seems  as  if  hurrying  one  to  de- 
struction.    One  sheet  of  foam  covers  its  surface 
several  hundred  yards  before  reaching  the  bridge  : 
excepting  in  the  middle  of  tlu'  stream,  where  a  nar- 
row smooth  cuiTent,  with  numerous  eddies,  glides 
in  a  surf,  and  falls  towards  one  of  the  centre  arches, 
underneath  which,  the  rapid  increases  almost  to  a 
cataract.     The  boat  was  of  course  kept  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  stream  ;  and  when  we  had  safely  passed 
the  bridge  and  the  rapid,  the  general  silence  broke 
out  into  a  Iniid  huzza. 

After  passing  the  Pont  d^St.E^nt,  the  intensity 
of  the  heat  began  in  some  degree  to  subside  ;  but  it 
was  not  until  sunset  that  it  was  felt  to  be  no  longer 
oppressive.  This  was  a  joyful  event.  We  watched, 
with  the  utmost  interest,  the  great  globe  of  lire 
descend  and  aj^proach  the  horizon  :  and  when  it 
was  no  longer  visible,  a  shout  of  joy  burst  from  the 
deck.  It  has  often  been  said,  that  at  a  certaui  lati- 
tude, the  sky  assumes  a  new  aspect,  most  obvious  at 
sunset  ;  and  the  latitude  f)f  Avi<,Mion  has  been 
named  as  the  line  at  which  this  change  is  j.ercepti- 
ble.  Somi'  English  gi-ntlemen,  who  were  i)assengers, 
found  no  ditticulty  in  discovering  a  sunset  diti'erent 
from  any  thing  they  had  ever  seen  before  ;  but,  for 
my  own  part,  heavenly  as  the  evening  was,  and  glo- 
rious as  was  the  sunset,  I  thought  1  could  remember 
many  as  beautiful  in  my  native  country.  It  is  in 
the  latitude  of  Naples  or  Valencia  that  glorious  sun- 
sets are  to  be  seen. 

As  we  approached  Avignon,  the  country  became 
less  interesting,  less  f(>rtil«',  less  wooded  ;  and  at 
length  the  faduig  light,  only  sutticient  to  show  the 
more  gigantic  objects,  discovered  but  the  dim  out- 
line of  high  rocks  and  irregular  ruins  against  the 
deep  blue  sky.  The  dark  mass  of  buildings  on  the 
left,  now  showed  that  we  had  reached  Avignon  ; 
and  although  we  airived  three  houi-s  later  than  tlu; 
tinu'  [)romised  when  we  started  from  Lyons,  yet  we 
were  all  satisfied  that  we  had  escajK'd  the  p(>rils  of 
faulty  machinery  and  ilangerous  rapids  ;  and  we 
had  certainly  no' great  cause  to  complain  of  delay 
in  completing  a  voyage  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
mil'-s  in  one  day. 

But  the  disasters  and  discomforts  of  the  day  were 
not  yet  entirely  terminated.  The  engine  had  not 
be<'n  stoi)ped  in  time  ;  and  the  steam  and  the  cur- 
HMit  Kigether,  carrying  us  rapidly  jtast  the  (piay, 
and  towards  the  bridge',  where  certain  destruction 
awaited  us,  the  vessel  was  turned  towards  the  nu>le, 
in  the  hope  that,  by  throwing  out  cabks  from  the 
stern,  her  progress  might  be  arr(>sted.  IJut  this 
could  not  be  accomplished  without  the  boat  striking 
the  wall,  which  she  did  with  such  force  as  to  stave- 
in  the  railing  that  eiu-ircled  the  deck,  and  to  throw 
the  whole  of  the  passengers  prostrate  ;  s<.me  upon 
each  other,  some  among  the  bales  of  goods,  but, 
fortunately,  none  into  the  river  ;  for,  when  the  col- 
lision seemecl  inevitable,  every  one  ]>ressed  back, 
and  left  sufhcii^nt  room  to  be  thrown  upon  their 
faces,  without  falling  overboard. 

It  may  easily  be  sn})posed,  that  the  arrival  of  be- 
tween tliree  and  four  hundred  pei-sons,  and  lauding 


CHAP.  XX.] 


AVIGNON. 


63 


all  the  baggage,  would  probably  occasion  much  con- 
fusion, and  many  mistakes — some  of  them  perhaps 
intentional.  So  thought  the  captain  of  the  boat ; 
for  he  issued  his  command,  that  not  one  article 
should  be  removed  from  the  vessel  that  night.  The 
passengers,  however,  exhausted  from  heat  and 
fatigue,  crowded  eagerly  on  shore  to  seek  accom- 
modation and  refreshment  ;  and,  as  every  one 
seemed  to  be  aware  that  the  fonner  could  not  easily 
be  obtained  for  three  or  four  hundred  pei*sons,  there 
was  a  genei'al  race  from  the  boat  to  the  town.  For 
my  own  part,  I  had  never  been  in  Avignon  before, 
and  I  accordingly  suflered  by  my  ignorance.  One 
hotel  after  another  1  found  ci'owded,  and  beds  were 
let  to  the  highest  bidder.  At  the  hotel  du  Midi,  I 
was  told  1  might  have  a  bed  for  twelve  francs  ;  but, 
i-ather  than  pay  so  much  for  what  would  in  all  pro- 
bability prove  little  luxury  in  a  filthy  house,  and  at 
so  hot  a  season,  1  resolved  to  return  to  the  vessel 
and  sleep  on  deck.  This  was  no  hardship  on  such 
a  night,  and  indeed  ai>i)eared  rather  enviable,  after 
the  excessive  heats  of  the  day.  So,  after  swallow- 
ing ten  or  twelve  cups  of  tea  in  the  hotel  de  TErn'ope, 
to  the  excessive  anmsenu-nt  of  a  company  of  French- 
nu-n,  who  could  not  understand  the  wisdom  of 
swallowing  hot  tea  after  suffering,  and  while  still 
sufferini'  so  much  from  heat,  1  made  mv  wav  to 
the  quay  and  the  vessel,  where  1  found  about  forty 
of  my  fellow-passengei*s,  who  had,  either  like  my- 
self, searched  for  acconniiodation  in  vain,  or  were 
too  mu(di  fatigued  to  search  at  all. 

The  night  was  so  sultry,  that  even  a  cloak  in  the 
open  air  was  oppressive  ;  but  the  tea  had  allayed 
juy  fever,  and  the  discomforts  of  the  day  were  re- 
paid by  a  sound  sleep.  Next  m<jrning,  at  six 
o'clock,  the  boat  proceeded  to  lieaucaire  with 
almost  all  its  cargo  of  merchants  and  bales  ;  and  I 
lountl  room  in  the  hotel  at  something  less  than 
twelve  francs  for  a  bed. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AVIGNON. 

Tlic  Cliarms  of  Narrow  Streets — The  Influence  of  Climate 
uptjn  the  Usaf^es  of  Countries — The  Palace  of  the  Popes — 
I'ilthine.ss  of  Avifjnon — Observations  upon  tlie  Scenery  of 
France,  and  upon  the  Misrepresentations  of  Travellers  and 
liimianciers— The  <}iity  of  exposing  Error — the  Environs 
of  Avignon — The  State  of  tlie  City. 

It  is  not  at  all  uncommon  to  find,  in  the  page  of  the 
tniveller,  some  such  oltservation  as  this — "  The  city 
presents  a  magnificent  and  almost  magical  effect 
when  viewed  at  a  distance.  As  you  approach,  it 
seems  a  city  of  palaces  ;  but  no  sooner  do  you  enter 
it,  than  the  delusion  is  at  an  end  ;  the  streets  are 
narrow  and  irloomv  :  vou  are  at  once  shut  in  among 
high  walls,  and  shut  out  from  the  light  of  day.  So 
talks  many  an  intelligent  traveller  ;  and,  indeed,  1 
scarcely  know  any  book  of  travels  in  southern  coun- 
tries, in  which  narri»w  sti-eets  are  not  spoken  of  as 
a  bl(»t  upon  many  a  hue  city.  Now,  so  far  from 
ajjreeing  with  tliese  travellers,  I  bless  narrow 
streets,  and  almost  feel  inclined  to  doubt,  whether 
those  who  speak  so  much  in  disparagement  of  them, 
liave  in  reality  visited  the  i)laces  where  their  bless- 
ings are  felt.  The  ]»ecniliarities  of  every  country 
are  chiefly  referrible  to  their  climate  ;  and  there  is 
•■'lual  wisdom  in  the  brick  floors,  dark  apartments, 


and  naiTow  streets  of  the  southern  cities,  as  in  the 
thickly-matted  rooms  and  heated  stoves  of  the  north. 
Peculiarities  in  the  usages  of  the  people,  also,  arise 
from  the  climate  in  which  they  live  ;  and  customs 
that  would  justly  excite  astonishment  in  one  coun- 
try, ought  not  to  create  even  a  smile  in  another. 
Without  a  due  consideration  of  the  influences  and 
results  of  climate  upon  the  habits  of  the  people  in 
different  countries,  a  traveller  is  apt  to  draw  many 
false  conclusions.  He  might  conclude,  that  in 
Naples,  or  in  Seville,  there  is  more  distress  among 
the  lower  orders  than  hi  London  ;  because,  in  these 
cities,  he  sees  hundreds  lying  asleep  during  the 
night  in  the  streets  ;  but  the  same  persons  w  ho  are 
houseless  in  Seville,  would  not  be  houseless  in  Lou- 
don. Some  miserable  hovel  would  receive  them. 
It  is  merely  that  the  climate  measures  the  scale  of 
necessities. 

1  never  had  more  reason  to  be  pleased  with  nar- 
row streets,  than  in  walking  from  the  hotel  towards 
the  palace  of  the  ancient  popes  at  Avignon,  for  the 
weather  was  but  little  cooler  than  during  our  de- 
scent of  the  river  :  and  so  wiselv  narrow  are  the 
streets  of  Avignon,  that  one  may  w  alk  from  one  end 
of  the  city  to  the  other,  without  once  stepping  out 
of  the  shade.  There  is  no  particularly  j)li'asing 
association  with  Avignon,  arising  from  its  former 
greatness,  because  that  greatness  was  not  of  a  kind 
that  could  ennoble  it.  Avignon  was  but  tlie  resi- 
dence of  popes  and  cardinals  ;  and  the  history  of 
this  city,  during  the  ])eriod  of  its  magnificence,  ])re- 
sents  only  reminiscences  of  knaverv  and  cuimintr  ; 
of  ambition  w  ithout  grandeur,  and  vicissitude  w  ith- 
out  romance. 

But  the  ancient  palace  of  tlie  popes  scarcely 
requires  the  aid  of  association  to  render  it  an  object 
of  curiosity.  Its  vastness  is  of  itself  sufficient  to 
create  a  sti-ong  impression  upon  the  spectator  ;  and 
its  ruined  condition — scarcely  warranted  by  its  an- 
tiquity— seems  to  interpret  the  destiny  of  that  em- 
pire of  which  it  was  once  the  seat.  Every  thing  is 
colossal  about  this  edifice.  The  height  of  the  walls 
is  no  less  enormous  than  their  extent  ;  and  their 
extraordinary  thickness  and  solidity  lead  us  to 
wonder  the  more  at  their  premature  decay.  The 
total  want  of  uniformity  in  the  building,  certainly 
adds  to  its  effect  as  a  ruin.  IJuilt  at  various 
epochs,  no  fewer  than  nine  popes  had  a  hand  in  its 
construction;  and  from  the  divereitv  ofstvle  in 
which  it  has  been  com})leted,  it  would  appear  that 
the  views  of  the  sovereign  pontiffs  on  architecture 
differed  as  widely  as  did  their  lives  and  characters. 

I  saw  no  other  building  excepting  the  metropoli- 
tan church  that  deserved  attention.  This  church 
was  built  by  Charlemagne,  upon  the  site  of  a  pagan 
temple.  There  ai'e  many  tombs  of  cardinals,  and 
even  popes,  in  this  church,  and  some  monuments 
jtossessing  attractions  from  the  excellence  of  the 
sculpture  that  adorns  them. 

I  have  never  seen  anv  town  that  I  would  not 
prefer  to  Avignon  as  a  residence  ;  its  filthiness  is 
disgusting— absolutely  inconceivable — to  be  found 
in  a  civilized  country.  It  is  quite  impossible  that  1 
should  illustrate  this  assertion  by  a  relation  of 
facts  ;  the  facts  would  not  be  credited  ;  and  I 
should  sullv  the  puritv  of  this  narrative.  Rut  this 
is  not  the  only  objection  that  lies  against  Avignon. 
The  environs  are  detestable  ;  and  if  a  city  were  a 
city  of  j>alaces — fit  for  gods  to  dwell  in,  and  pos- 
sessed   not   the   ehann    of    pleashig   environs — it 


«4 


AVIGNON. 


[chap.  XX. 


should  be  no  city  of  mine.     The  cities  of  France, 
indeed,  are  remarkably  deficient  in  this  charm  ;  for 
the  best  of  all  reasons,  beeauHo  France  is  an  ui,'ly 
and  nninterosting  country.    All  panegyric  upon  the 
lovt-luiess  and  laughing  fertility  of  France  is  rhodo- 
montade.     There  is  more  of  the  beautiful  and  the 
pictures(iue  in  many  a  single  county  of  England,  or 
even  ot  Scotland,  than  in  all  the  scattered  beauties 
of  France,  were  they  concentrated  within  a  ring- 
fence  ;    excepting  always  the  Pyrenees,   which   I 
cannot  lu-lp  looking  upon  as  a  kuid  of  separate  ter- 
ritory—the  mere  boundary  between   Fi-ance  and 
Spain  ;  but,  at  all  events,  the  Pyrenees  must  bo 
excepted.     I  have  travelled  through  almost  every 
part  of  France  ;  and  truly,  1  have  found  its  beauties 
thinly  sown.     If  the  banks  of  some  of  its  ri\  ei-s  be 
excepted — the  Seine,  the  Loire,  the  Rhone,  and  the 
(jiaronne— some  i)arts  of  Nonnandy,  and  the  de- 
partments of  the  Pyrenees  (and  all  these  comprise 
not  one  hundredth  part  of  the  country),  France  is 
an  unromantic,  uninteresting,  unlovely  land.     And 
even  in  these  favoured  parts,  such  as  the  vaunted 
Orleannois,  where  shall  we  find  the  green  meadows 
that  lie  along  the  banks  of  our  Thames,  or  Avon, 
or  Severn  ;  or  ujum  which  of  them  shall  we  i)ause 
to  adniire    thuse    roniantic  views— that  charnung 
varietv  of  rock,  wood,  and  mountain — that  chai-ac- 
terise'the  banks  of  the  Taniar,  the  Wye,  the  Der- 
wfut,  the  Swale,  the  Wharff,  or  the  Dove  i     These 
are  nowhere  to  be  found.      Beautiful,  doubtless,  are 
thr  banks  of  the   Loire  ;  soft  and  swelling  are  its 
vine-covered  hills  ;  and  graceful  are  the  bendings 
of  its  ]>road  an<l  glassy  stream.     But  vines  are  a 
wr.tclicd  substitute,  in  the  dominion  of  beauty,  for 
tlif  t(U<K  r  ^l•:lss  of  an   English  meadow;  and  the 
uiiiinrm  tiow  of  a  wiiU-  and  silvery  stream,  ])alis 
more  upon  the  sense,  than  the  eai)ricious  revflU-r 
that   one   nionimt   njoiecs    in    its   (Utj.,   dimpling, 
glassy  }»o(»is,  and  the  next   riots  on  its  eotirsc,  mid 
riuptding  roeks,  lost   in  the  defile  of  \v.)odo(l  elills 
that    close    above.      I    pity    the   man    who   erosst-s 
France    in  any   (lir<rtion.     Thousan<ls    know   liow 
,uitui/ai>f  Is  the  journey  from  Calais  to  I'ans  ;  hut 
they  who  never  travel* fiirther,  suppose  that  lovely 
Frane( — panegyrised  by  so  many— lies  beyond.  No 
sueh   thing.     Let  them  eontinue  their  jouriuy  by 
whiehever  road  they  please,  ami  tliey  will  find  but 
little  improvement  ;— let  it  he  from  Paris  to  Stras- 
burg,  fronj  Paris  to  Thoulouse,  from  Paris  to  Lyons 
—  it"is  all  the  same.  There  is  scarcely,  in  these  thou- 
sand  miles,  one  spot   at  which  a  man  would  draw 
his  bridle,  and  say  to  himself,"   fhis  is  beautiful.  ' 
Hut  this  barrenni  ss  of  beauty  would  be  nothing, 
were  it  not  that  France  has  been  cried  up  as  a  land 
of  beauty,  and  lu'cn  made  the  sceni>  of  romance, 
delightful  France  !   land  of  loveliness  and  laughing 
fertility  !  have  been  by-words  ever  since  the  days 
of  Mary  ([ueen  of  Scots;  and  more  than  this,  ro- 
mattrkrf;  have  laid  there  the  scenes  of  their  fictions. 
Uau{)hiny,   Provence,  and    Langnedoc,   have   been 
associated  in  our  minds  fron\  infancy,  with  romantic 
story  ;    and  we  have  been  taught  by  Anne  Kad- 
cliffe,  to  suppose  these  provinces  a  terrestrial  para- 
dise.     The    (lisappoininient    to    the    traveller   who 
'^'oes  there  w  ith  the  expectations  in  which  he  is  well 
entitled   to   indulge,   from    the   repn>sentations   of 
others,  is  truly  i>ainful.    Woods,  chateaux,  roiuantie 
glades,  rocks,  and  rushing  streams,  where  are  ye  '. 
Woods  of  olives  are  indeed  seen,  scattered  over  a 
valley,  or  skirting  a  riv.  r  ;  but  who  that  knows  the 


olive  of  France  finds  beauty  in  such  a  picture  ?  I 
do  not  wish  to  underrate  tlui  olive  of  France,  or 
nither  the  French  olive  ;  but  it  must  submit  to  the 
humble  praise  of  adding  zest  to  a  glass  of  Laftte, 
or  lending  its  oil  to  the  delicacies  of  lobster  and 
mackerel.  The  fruit  is  one  thing,  and  the  tree 
another  ;  and  the  dingy  pale  green  of  the  olive 
leaf,  its  puny  trunk  and  unmajestic  branches— such 
as  the  olive-tree  is  found  in  France — can  never 
adorn  a  landscape.  Chateaux  also  we  liave  in  these 
j)rovinces ;  but,  oh  !  how  different  from  the  clia- 
teaux  of  whicli  we  read  in  the  romance-writers, 
and  which  never  existed  but  in  their  imaginations  ! 
The  chateaux  are  for  the  most  part  box^^s  upon  a 
large  scale  ;  staring  houses  with  wings,  and  a 
parapet  wall  in  front,  covered  with  vases  of  flowers. 
In  shoi-t,  we  find  the  whole  a  delusion  ;  and  our 
minds  revert  to  the  green  acclivities  of  our  own 
hills,  our  oak-foi-ests,  our  lakes  and  rivers,  and  the 
beauty  and  fertility  that,  along  with  the  picturesque, 
mingle  in  an  English  landscape. 

1  am   perfectly  aware,  that  in  denying  to  the 
country  through  which  1  am  travelling  the  cliarni 
of  romance,   1  deprive  my  page   of  an  attraction 
which  it  would  be  very  easy  to  transfer  to  it.     Jt 
would  be  easy  to  foster  the  delusion,  to  talk  as 
those  have  talked  befoi-e  me,  of  lovely  and  rinnte 
France  ;  and  to  increa.se  the  discontent  of  fire-side 
travellers,  by  making  them  believe  that  the  country 
beyond  seas  is  all  a  jtaradise  ;   but  1  will  be  au- 
thentic at  the  risk  of  being  uninteresting.     If  the 
traveller  wishes  to  give  to  his  page  the  charm  of 
romance,  let  him  go  where  it  may  be  legitimately 
gathered  ;  but  if  lie  visit  a  country  where  it  does 
not  exist,  it  is  his  duty  to  disrobe  the  representa- 
tions of  others  of  their  false  colouring,  and  to  tvll 
tho  truth.     The  world  beyond  seas  xm  not  all   an 
Eden.      Every  land   is  not  "  a  laud  of  the  rose  and 
the   niyrth."'    There   are   cloudy  skies   elsewhere 
than    in    Knglaiul  ;    bogs   in  other  countries  than 
Ireland  ;  and  barren  mountains  in  more  lands  than 
Sc(jtland. 

I  am  sick  of  the  misrepresentations  of  travellers, 
especially  respecting  natural  scenery.  The  scenery 
of  countries  whicji  have  even  less  pretensions  to 
beauty  than  France,  has  found  admirers,  eonuneu- 
tators,  an<l  even  illustrators.  No  one  travels  with- 
out thinking  it  necessary  to  pause  now  and  then, 
and  rhapsodise  upon  the  delightful  and  roiuantie, 
or  sublime  scen(>ry  that  lies  around.  This  <dves 
inteivst  to  the  journey,  allows  tin;  display  of  de- 
scriptive powers,  and  hlls  the  book  besides.  1  have 
read  of  charming  spots  discovered  among  the 
StepiH'S  of  Russia  ;  and  we  read  in  the  expeditions 
to  the  North  Poles,  uf  attractive  scenery  in  the 
country  of  the  Es([uiniaux  :  but  this  is  scarcely 
suri)rising  ;  for,  after  sailing  the  salt  seas,  the 
scanty  verdure  of  a  hill-side,  <tr  the  margin  of  a 
brook,  or  even  less  than  this — the  very  earth  itself, 
scattereil  with  a  few  stunted  pines,  will  apjtear  to 
furnish  tiie  materials  of  a  captivating  sketch. 

These  observations  have  all  been  occasioned  l)y 
my  cicerone  at  Avii^non  leading  me  to  an  elevated 
rock  ueit  far  from  the  palaci'  of  the  po[)es,  from 
which  a  view  of  the  country  round  Avignon  is  laid 
open.  Somehow,  1  had  always  thought  of  Avignon 
as  a  place  of  perfect  beauty — of  verdnn-,  and  deep 
shades,  and  cool  wattrs  ;  and  so  strongly  had  this 
persuasion  been  fixed  in  my  mind,  that  1  had  halt 
determined  to  make  Avignon  a  retreat  for  two  or 


CHAP.  XXI.] 


VAUCLUSE. 


65 


three  months.  But  the  view  from  this  terrace  dis- 
sipated these  illusions  ;  for  a  more  sterile  and 
unlovely  prospect  my  eye  never  rested  upon. 
lUnges  of  light  gray  rocks,  olive  plantations  and 
vines,  were  alone  to  be  seen.  Shades  there  were 
none,  verdure  as  little  ;  and  I  was  glad  to  seek  the 
shade  of  the  narrow  streets,  and  to  hope  for  verdure 
at  Vaucluse. 

Avignon  is  one  of  the  most  decayed  of  the  French 
towns  ;  I  do  not  mean  in  comparison  with  its  papal 
grandeur,  but  within  the  last  fifty  years.  Its  manu- 
factures have  been  transferred  to  Lyons.  The 
annual  fair  at  Beaucaire  has  usurped  its  market ; 
and  it  lives  only  by  its  olives,  its  vines,  and  by  the 
transit  of  goods  upon  the  Rhone.  I  saw  many 
beggars  in  Avignon,  and  was  informed  that  there 
were  many  miserahles  in  the  city.  Wages  of  labour 
in  Avignon  average  about  two  francs  per  day  ; 
which  is  not  much,  considering  that  provisions  are 
scarcely  cheaper  than  in  country -towns  in  England. 
Beef  is  6d.  per  lb.,  mutton  6|.  ;  eggs  are  9d.  a 
dozen  ;  a  fowl  costs  two  francs.  Wine  is  about 
threepence  per  bottle. 

I  did  not  prolong  my  stay  in  Avignon.  The  filth 
and  heat  of  the  town,  and  the  sterility  of  the  country, 
made  me  anxious  to  leave  both  ;  and  two  days  after 
I  arrived  in  it,  I  set  out  for  Vaucluse. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

VAUCLUSE. 

Claims  of  Petrarch  upon  the  Gratitude  of  Posterity— Journey 
to  risle  and  Vaucluse— The  Valley  of  Vaucluse— The 
Fountain— Grandeur  of  the  Scenery— Petrarch's  Gardens 
—  His  way  of  Life— His  House— Monument  at  the  Village 
—Trait  of  the  Duchess  d'AnpouIeme— Tlic  Bisc  Wind 
of  Provence  the  Circius  of  the  Ancients— Return  to 
Avignon. 

It  was  not  because  of  any  extraordinary  veneration 
for  the  memory  of  Petrarch,  still  les's  from  anv 
romantic  ideas  of  the  loves  of  the  poet,  that  I 
visited  Vaucluse.  But  a  traveller  who  should  pass 
fr(»ni  Avignon,  on  his  way,  without  turm'ng  a  few 
leagues  out  of  it,  to  see  'the  fountain  of  Vaucluse, 
might  be  justly  taxed  with  being  an  incurious  tra- 
veller ;  and,  besides,  I  had,  like  everybody  else, 
heard  so  much  of  Vaucluse,  without  having  ever 
read  any  descrii)tion  of  it,  that  1  had  some  curiosity 
to  see  it ;  especially  jis  I  had  long  formed  an  idea 
of  it  in  my  own  mind,  and  wished  to  ascertain  if 
the  guesses  of  fancy  were  ever  correct.  Although 
I  have  disclaimed  any  extraordinary  veneration  for 
the  name  of  Petrarch,  I  am  not  insensible  to  his 
claiins  upon  th<>  respect  and  gratitude  of  sueceed- 
nig  times.  The  world  is  under  great  obligations  to 
him,  not  only  on  account  of  that  legacy  of  his  genius 
of  which  we  are  all  the  inheritors,  but  also,  bc^cause 
it  is  to  him  that  we  owe  many  of  the  treasures  of 
ancient  learning  which  have  descended  to  us.  He 
was  not  only  the  greatest  poet,  but  the  most  learned 
man  of  his  day  ;  and  his  own  exertions,  as  well  as 
the  industry  of  others  employed  by  him,  were  the 
nieans  of  rescuing  from  oblivion  many  valuable 
remains  of  Ronuin  genius. 

^V  e  must  not  hlame  Petrarch  because  he  jire- 
ferred  hi-  "Africa"  to  his  Sonnets.  The  former 
is  indeed  forgotten,  and  the  latter  live  ;  but  in  the 


days  of  Petrarch,  few  works  had  been  written  in 
the  vulgar  tongues  ;   and  Petrarch,  whatever  his 
own  opinion  might  have  been  of  the  intrinsic  merit 
of  his  sonnets,  probably  thought  them  less  likely  to 
live,  because  they  were  not  written  in  the  language 
of  the  learaed.     It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  had 
Petrarch  never  seen  Laura,  he  might  never  have 
been  known  as  the  most  polished  and  elegant  of 
lyric  poets  ;  but  only  as  the  author  of  a  Latm  poem 
called  Africa,  for  which  he  was  crowned   in  the 
capitol,  biit  which  has  long  been  forgotten.     But 
Petrarch  is  deserving  of  our  gratitude,  not  only  for 
the   legacy  of  learned  lore,  which  his  zeal  in  the 
cause  of  letters  has  bequeathed  to  us,  but  also  for 
the  inheritance  of  his  love-poems  :  for  although  it 
may  be  admitted,  that  in  these  we  cannot  discover 
that  nature,  and  tenderness,  and  deep  pathos,  for 
which  much  of  the  poetry  of  our  own  time  is  so 
remarkable — they  will  ever  deserve  the  character 
of  being  the  most  graceful  and  polished  productions 
of  the  lyric  muse  that  have  adorned  the  literature 
of  any  people  ;  and  Petrarch  is  entitled,  besides,  to 
the  singular  praise  of  having  perfected,  in  his  own 
lifetime,  the  language  of  his  country.     The  same- 
ness of  Petrarch's  sonnets  has  often  been  objected 
to  them  ;    but  how   was  it  possible  to  avoid  this 
fault  in  the  composition  of  three  hundred  sonnets 
in  praise  of  the  same  woman  ?     We  see  them  all 
collected  together,  which   Laura   did  not ;    and    1 
have  somewhere  read,  that  had  his  mistress  been 
presented  with  them  all  bound  up  together,  even 
she  would  have  been  fatigued  with  the  repetition  of 
her  own  praises. 

It  was  in  those  days  that  genius  found  its  re- 
ward. In  life,  it  was  courted  and  honoured  ;  in 
death,  it  was  celebrated  and  mourned.  The  most 
splendid  ai)pointments,  the  highest  offices  of  the 
state,  waited  upon  literary  merit.  Crowns  were 
placed  upon  the  brows  of  the  victor  poet  in  the  Ro- 
man capital — embassies  were  sent  to  congratulate 
poets  on  the  success  of  their  works — princes  were 
their  companions  ;  and  we  read  that  Mahomet,  a 
king,  a  conqueror,  and  an  accounted  prophet,  stript 
himself  of  his  royal  cloak,  to  throw  it  upon  the 
shoulders  of  an  author.  But  all  this  has  passed 
away,  and  there  is  now  little  left  to  incite  to  high 
endeavour,  the  mind  of  him  who,  with  the  loftiest 
genius,  needs  an  incitement  more  powerful  than  the 
love  of  gain,  or  even  than  the  jirospect  of  general 
celebrity. 

The  distance  to  Vaucluse  from  Avignon  is  about 
six  leagues.     I   hired  a  cabriolet  for  the  journey, 
and   left  Avignon  about  nine  o'clock.      The  road 
between  Avignon  and  I'lsle,  a  small  town  about  a 
league  and  a  quarter  from   Vaucluse,  is  any  thing 
but   interesting.     The  soil  Is  covered  with*  stones 
and  vines,   which  generally  flourish  best  in  such 
company  ;  and  the  only  trees  are  olives,  and  some 
few  midberries.     But  let  me  do  justice  to  the  skies 
of  this  latitude,  which  were  cloudless  and  beautiful ; 
and,  had  it  not  been  that  the  sun  was  somewhat  t<>o 
powerful,  any  country  must  have  looked  well  under 
so  serene  a  heaven.     The  heat  was  indeed  oppres- 
sive ;  field-labour  seemed  to  be  susjiended  :   1   saw 
the  labourers  lying  almost  naked  under  every  tuit 
of  trees  ;  and  1  found  it  necessary  more  than  once 
to  draw  up  at  any  s])ot  where  the  friendly  shade  of 
a  rather  larger  tree  than  usual  Hung  itself  across 
the    road.     As    I   apjtroached    I'lsle,   the    countrv 
swelled  into  undulations,  but  without  any  improve- 

F 


6G 


VAUCLUSE. 


[chap.  XXI. 


ment  in  beauty.  The  two  hills  were  yet  stony,  and 
covered  with  vines  ;  and  the  trees,  excepting  some 
ahnond-trees,  were  still  olives  ;  yet  how  delusive 
even  this  might  appear  in  description  !  "  An  un- 
dulating country  spread  on  every  side— knolls, 
clothed  to  the  sunwnit  with  fresh  and  luxurious 
vines,  laden  with  their  rich  burden,  rose  by  the 
way-side,  while  copses  of  almond-trees,  olives,  and 
mulberry,  tilled  the  hollows,  and  dotted  the  neigh- 
bouring acclivities."  This  is  by  far  the  most  inter- 
estin<»  style  of  composition,  and  in  fact  the  easiest ; 
but  e'ven  on  my  way  to  Vaucluse,  1  will  not  vamp 
up  a  country  that  has  nothing  to  recommend  it. 

The  heat  was  so  intense,  and  1  travelled  so  slowly, 
that  1    did  not   arrive  at   I'lsle   until   nearly  two 
o'clock.     Here  I  found  an  improvement — I  found 
water  and  shade.     L'lsle  is  indeed  surrounded  and 
intei-sected  by  different  streams  of  the    Sourgue, 
which  issues  from  the  fountain  of  Vaucluse  ;  and  a 
fine  row  of  elms  lines  the  avenues  that  lead  in  and 
out  of  the  town.    The  adjacent  country,  too,  is  tole- 
rably well  covered  with  poplars,  willows,  and  olives 
— none  of  them  indeed  beautiful  trees — but  better 
a  thousand  times  than  dwarfish   vines.     L'lsle  is 
quite  celebrated  for  the  excellence  of  its  aubei-ge  ; 
and  as  I  preferred  visiting  Vaucluse  in  the  evening, 
because  every  pleashig  scene  is  viewed  to  greater 
advantage  at  such  an  hour,  I  ordered  dinner  at 
risle,  and  sought  the  shelter  of  a  dark  cool  room, 
where,  revei-sing  the  order  of  things,  I  indulged  in 
a  siesta  before,  in  i)laee  of  after  dinner  ;  and  so 
recherche  a  dinner  as  the  aubergiste  at  l'lsle  pro- 
duced, and  so  choice  a  bottle  of  St.  George,  were 
admirable  preparatives  for  a  visit  to  the  love-seat 
of  an  uninipassioned  poet.     I  was  in  no  haste  to 
leave  these  delicacies,  for  the  sun  yet  shone  fiercely 
down  ;  and  it  sometimes  happens  that  a  man,  seated 
as  I  was,  falls  into  the  most  agreeable  train  of 
thought  in  the  world.   1  left  l'lsle  about  six  o'clock, 
and  passing  through  a  tolerably  agreeable  country, 
in  less  than  an  hour  turned  into  the  valley  of  Vau- 
cluse—which  is  rather  a  defile  than  a  valley.     On 
the  left,  it  is  bounded  by  a  steep  rocky  acclivity  ; 
and  below  the  road  on  the  right,  fiows  the  limpid 
and  rapid  Sourgue,  skiii:ed  by  a  stripe  of  the  finest 
verdure,  about  two  or  three  hundred  yards  broad. 
Beyond  this,  another  range  of  rocky  hills  bounds 
the  right  side  of  the  defile.     After  following  the 
stream  upward  about  half  a  mile — the  defile  con- 
tinuing to  be  of  the  same  breadth,  but  exhibiting 
features  of  more  rudeness  and  grandeur— I  reached 
the  little   village  of  Vaucluse,  which  is  only  a  few 
houses  and  an  inn. 

From  this  little  village  to  the  fountain,  a  narrow 
path  leads  up  the   ravine   by  the  margin   of  the 
stream,  which  is  a  rapid  the  whole  way  from  the 
fountain  to  the  village.    The  defile  grows  gradually 
narrower,  and  the  scenery  becomes  at  every  step 
wilder  and  grander  and  more  sterile.  There  is  now 
no  green  stripe   by   the   margin   of  the    Sourgue. 
Huge  blocks  of  rock  lie  in  its  channel,  and  are 
strewed  on  every  hand  ;  and  the  sides  of  the  de- 
file approach  nearer  to  each  other.     After  about 
twenty  minutes'  walk,  the  defile  is  seen  to  tenninate 
in  a  huge  perpendicular  rock,  from  four  to  five  hun- 
dred feet  high  ;  and  this  rock  is  the  sublime  portal 
of  the  founuin   of  Vaucluse.      As  we  approach 
nearer,  the  scene  becomes  more  striking  and  ma- 
jestic.     The  rocks  stand  around  like  pillars  and 
pyramids — behind  them  the  walls  of  the  defile  rise 


inaccessible — the  stream  is  now  almost  a  cataract 
— and  a  few  cypress-trees  lean  over  it ;  and  high 
among  the  rocks  are  seen  the  almost  vanished  ruins 
of  the^castle,  said  to  have  been  in  other  days  the 
stronghold  of  the  lords  of  Vaucluse.  It  must  indeed 
have  been  a  stronghold,  for  the  rocks  beneath  are 
totally  inaccessible.  Let  me  say,  that  I  scarcely 
recollect  any  scene  I  have  ever  looked  upon,  with 
the  exception  of  the  pass  of  Mount  Albula  in  the 
(Jrisons,  that  presented  features  of  wilder  or  more 
desolate  sublimity. 

Scrambling  among  the  rocks,  I  now  stood  before 
the  celebrated  fountain  of  Vaucluse.     At  the  dis- 
tance of  a  few  yards,  rose  above  me  the  huge  bald 
rock  1  have  mentioned,  its  front  inclining  a  little 
forward  from  the  perpendicular  ;  and  about  half- 
way up,  springing  from  two  fissures,  hung  two  fig- 
trees,  green  and  fiourishing.     In  front,  the  under 
part  of  this  rock  showed  a  wide  arch,  the  entrance 
to  a  caveni  ;  and  beneath  the  arch  slept,  dark  and 
deep,  the  fountain  of  Vaucluse.     1  made  my  way 
down  the  rock  that  inclines  upwards  from  the  water, 
that  1   might   look    into   the   cavern.     The  rocky 
chamber  of  the  fountain  appeared  to  me,  as  far  as 
the  gloom  permitted  me  to  ascertain  its  size,  to  be 
about  thirty  yards  in  diameter  ;  and  the  roof,  in  most 
places,  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  above  the  surface  of 
the  fountain.  The  water  is  perfectly  tranquil  ;  there 
is  no  boiling  up,  or  swelling  out  as  from  a  spring— 
this,  as  well  as  the  apparent  blackness  of  the  water, 
beuig  owuig  to  its  great  depth.     The  fountain  has 
often  been  sounded,  but  ineffectually— not  because 
it  is  bottomless,  but  probably  because  the  force  of 
the  spring  bursting  upwards,  added  to  the  ineffi- 
ciency of  the  instrument  used,  has  prevented  the 
lead  from  reaching  the  bottom.     That  it  is  of  great 
depth,  is,  however,  indisputable.     1  remarked,  in 
descending  to  the  brink  of  the  fountain,  a  slight 
violet  odour,  which  1  at  first  imagined  arose  from 
the  water  ;  but  upon  looking  more  narrowly  at  the 
rocks,  1  found  it  proceeded  from  a  deep-red  vegeta- 
ble substance  which  grew  upon  them — 1  think  the 
bymisjvl'Uhus  of  Linnieus. 

The  fountain  of  Vaucluse  presents  a  totally  differ- 
ent aspect  at  the  season  when  1  siiw  it,  and  when  it 
is  seen  after  a  continuance  of  heavy  rain.     In  dry 
weather  it  is,  as  1  have  described  it,  a  smooth,  <letp 
fi)untain,  confined  to  its  rocky  chamber  ;  and  when 
iu  this  state,  it  escapes  by  subterranean  passages 
into  the  bed  of  th?  Sourgue.     When  the  fountain  is 
high,  these  passages  are  insufficient  ;  the  cavern  is 
no  longer  visible,  for  the   water  reaches  the  roof, 
and  pours  into  the  bed  of  the  river  in  the  form  of  a 
cascade.      In  this  state,  however,  it  must  lose  that 
character  which  to  me  is  its  chief  attraction— that 
charm  of  stillness,  placidity,  and  depth,  which  hangs 
over  its  rocky  basin.    The  cascade  may  be  fine,  but 
1  am  sure  1  should  have  felt  disappointment  had  I 
seen  it  thus. 

Nothing  that  1  have  ever  seen,  has  so  much  ex- 
ceeded my  expectations  as  Vaucluse.  These  are 
rarely  equalled  by  realities,  but  exceeded  scarcely 
ever  ;  yet  such  is  the  fact  in  this  one  instance.  1 
was  notdeceived  by  the  misrepresentations  of  travel- 
lers ;  for  1  had  never  read  any  account  of  Vaucluse. 
I  had  imagined  to  myself  a  cool,  clear  fountain, 
with  a  grassy,  or  perhaps  a  rocky  margin  ;  but  1  was 
not  prepared  to  find  it  sunouuded  by  such  scenery 
as  1  had  rarely  looked  upon  even  in  Switzerland. 
The  words  applied  by  Rousseau  to  Meillerie,  might, 


CHAP.  XXI.] 


VAUCLUSE. 


67 


I 


even  with  greater  truth,  be  spoken  of  Vaucluse  : 
"  Ce  lieu  solitaire  forme  un  reduit  sauvage  et  desert, 
mais  plein  de  ces  sortes  de  beautds  qui  ne  plaisent 
qu'aux  ames  sensibles,  et  pai*aissent  horribles  aux 
autres  .  .  .  En  comparaut  un  si  doux  s^jour  aux 
objets  qui  I'environnent,  il  semblait  qui  ce  lieu  dut 
etre  I'asile  de  deux  amans  dchapp^s  seals  au  bou- 
leverseraent  de  la  nature." 

The  mean  temperature  of  the  fountain  of  Vau- 
cluse is  10  30**  of  Reaumur.  Its  greatest  annual 
variation  is  not  more  than  090** ;  its  greatest  cold- 
ness being  iu  the  month  of  April,  and  the  least  in 
September.  The  fountain,  when  at  its  lowest, 
ejects  a  cubic  fathom  of  water  every  second, 
three  when  at  its  highest  elevation,  and  two  in  its 
mean  state.  This,  l)y  simj^le  multiplication,  gives 
upwards  of  63,000,000  of  cubic  fathoms  in  the  year, 
or  13,627,872,000  cubic  feet. 

As  1  returned  from  the  fountain  to  the  village, 
I  noticed  innumerable  wild  flowers  by  the  way- 
side ;  but  a  catalogue  of  them  would  scarcely  be 
interesting.  The  defile  of  Vaucluse  is  known,  how- 
ever, to  be  a  fertile  field  for  the  botanist ;  and  I  was 
informed,  from  good  authority,  that,  between  the 
village  and  the  fountain,  no  fewer  than  700  varie- 
ties of  plants  are  to  be  found. 

I  did  not  return  to  I'lsle  that  night,  but  saun- 
tered and  lingered  in  the  defile  till  dark,  and  then 
took  up  my  abode  for  that  night,  and  part  of  next 
day,  at  the  auberge  at  Vaucluse,  not  so  celebrated 
as  its  rival  at  l'lsle,  but  quite  good  enough  for  any 
one  who  has  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  foun- 
tain of  Vaucluse. 

By  the  side  of  the  river,  there  is  a  little  garden 
and  a  meadow,  which  are  called,  by  the  inhabitants, 
the  Garden  of  Petrarch.  A  high  rock  rises  above 
it,  on  the  southern  side ;  and  there  is  a  natural 
grotto  in  the  rock,  about  thirty  feet  long  and  fifteen 
wide,  which  is  also  called  the  Grotto  of  Petrarch  ; 
and  probably  both  the  garden  and  the  rock  are 
justly  named  ;  for  their  features  agree  with  the  de- 
scription given  by  Petrarch  himself  of  his  retreat. 
He  Siiys,  in  one  of  his  Latin  epistles,  "  On  one  side, 
my  garden  is  bounded  by  a  deep  river  ;  on  another, 
by  a  rugged  mountain,  a  barrier  against  the  noon- 
day heats,  and  which  never  refuses,  not  even  at 
mid-day,  to  lend  me  its  friendly  shade ;  but  the 
sweet  air  reaches  me  through  all  obstacles.  In  the 
distance,  a  surly  wall  makes  me  inaccessible  to  both 
man  and  beast." 

1  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  adding  a  few 
extracts  from  the  Latin  Epistles  of  Petrarch — less 
generally  known  than  his  Sonnets — descriptive  of 
his  manner  of  life  in  the  solitude  which  he  had 
chosen.  "  You  have  heard  me  speak,'*  said  he  to 
the  friend  to  whom  he  indites  the  first  epistle  of  the 
third  book,  "of  my  warfai*e  with  the  NjTnphs, 
who  reign  at  the  foot  of  the  rocks  that  lose  them- 
selves in  the  clouds.  It  is  from  these  that  the 
Sourgue,  transparent  as  crystal,  rolls  over  its  eme- 
rald bed ;  and  by  its  bank,  1  cultivate  a  little  ste- 
rile and  stony  spot,  which  1  have  destined  to  the 
Muses ;  but  the  jealous  Nymphs  dispute  the  pos- 
session of  it  with  me ;  they  destroy  in  the  spring 
the  labours  of  my  summer.  1  had  conquered  from 
them  a  little  meadow,  and  had  not  enjoyed  it  long, 
when,  upon  my  return  from  a  journey  into  Italy,  1 
found  that  they  had  robbed  me  of  all  my  posses- 
sion. But  1  was  not  to  be  discouraged :  1  collected 
the  labourers,  the  fishermen,  and  the  shepherds. 


and  raised  a  rampart  against  the  Nymphs ;  and 
there  we  raised  an  altar  to  the  Muses  ;  but,  alas  •! 
experience  has  proved,  that  it  is  vain  to  battle  with 
the  elements.  I  no  longer  dispute  w  itli  the  Sourgue 
a  part  of  its  bed ;  the  Nymphs  have  gained  the 
victory.  There  is,  however,  at  the  foot  of  the 
rock,  a  little  angle,  where  I  have  re-established  the 
Muses ;  and  this  asylum  is  sufficient :  it  is  well 
guarded ;  for  if  the  Nymphs  would  chase  them 
from  this  retreat,  they  must  carry  away  the  moun- 
tain also." 

In  another  place,  he  says: — "  Here  I  please  my- 
self with  my  little  gardens  and  my  narrow  dwell- 
ing. I  want  nothing,  and  look  for  no  favours  from 
fortune.  If  you  come  to  me,  you  will  see  a  solitary, 
who  wanders  in  the  meadows,  the  fields,  the  forests, 
and  the  mouutalns,  resting  in  the  mossy  grottos, 
or  beneath  the  shady  trees.  Your  friend  detests 
the  intrigues  of  court,  the  tumult  of  cities,  and  flies 
from  the  abodes  of  pageantry  and  pride.  Equally 
removed  from  joy  or  sadness,  he  passes  his  days  in 
the  most  profound  calm,  happy  to  have  the  Muses 
for  his  companions,  and  the  song  of  birds  and  the 
murmur  of  the  stream  for  his  serenade  ...  I  have 
but  few  servants,  but  many  books.  Sometimes  you 
will  fiud  me  seated  upon  the  bank  of  the  river ; 
sometimes  stretched  upon  the  yielding  grass  ;  and, 
enviable  power !  I  have  all  my  hours  at  my  own 
disposal,  for  it  is  rarely  that  I  see  any  one.  Above 
all  things,  I  delight  to  taste  the  sweets  of  leisure  ; 
sometimes  fixing  my  eyes  upon  one  object,  and 
then  allowing  them  to  wander  over  all." 

One  more  extract  from  one  of  his  manuscripts 
will  suffice  : — "  The  only  woman  whom  I  ever  see 
is  a  black  ser^'ant,  dry  and  withered  like  the  de- 
serts of  Lybia.  Here,  neither  the  harmony  of 
human  voices  nor  of  instruments  reaches  my  ear. 
I  hear  only  the  lowing  of  cattle,  the  bleating  of 
sheep,  the  warbling  of  birds,  and  the  murmuring 
of  waters.  I  am  silent  from  morning  until  night, 
for  I  have  no  one  to  speak  to.  The  people,  who 
are  occupied  in  cultivating  their  vines,  or  mending 
their  nets,  understand  not  the  charms  of  convei*sa- 
tion,  nor  the  sympathies  of  life.  I  often  content 
myself  with  sharing  black  bread  with  my  valet, 
and  I  enjoy  it.  This  man  reproaches  me  with  the 
severity  of  the  life  which  I  lead  ;  but  as  for  me, 
1  find  it  easier  to  accustom  myself  to  the  simple 
food  of  the  poor,  than  to  a  more  artificial  way  of 
life.  Figs,  grapes,  walnuts,  almonds — these  are  my 
delights.  My  table  is  also  graced  with  the  fish  that 
abound  m  my  river  ;  and  it  is  one  of  my  greatest 
pleasures  to  watch  the  fishermen  draw  their  nets, 
and  to  draw  them  myself.  All  about  me  is  changed. 
I  used  once  to  dress  myself  with  care  ;  now,  you 
would  believe  me  a  labourer  or  a  shepherd.  My 
house  resembles  that  of  Fabius  or  of  Cato.  I  have 
but  a  valet  and  a  dog.  The  house  of  my  servant 
adjoins  my  own.  I  call  him  when  I  want  him  ; 
and  when  I  have  no  more  need  of  him,  be  returns 
home." 

These  passages  neither  convey  to  us  a  very  fa- 
vourable idea  of  Petrarch's  mind  and  character, 
nor  make  us  envious  of  his  way  of  life.  I  will  say 
nothing  of  Laui-a,  because  all  the  world  is  ac- 
quainted with  as  much  as  can  be  known  of  the 
history  of  his  love,  and  with  the  sonnets  that  have 
rendered  them  both  immortal. 

Of  the  house  of  Peti-arch,  not  a  trace  remains. 
It  is  certain  that  it  was  situated  somewhere  be- 


68 


NISMES. 


[chap.  XXII. 


tween  the  village  and  the  fountain  ;  because  he 
tells  us,  in  one  of  his  epistles,  that  his  house  is  si- 
tuated between  his  gardens  ;  and  one  of  these  is 
known  to  have  been  adjoining  to  the  village,  the 
other  close  to  the  fountain  ;  for  so  he  also  tells  us. 

A  morning  visit  to  the  fountain  abated  nothing 
of  the  ]>leasure  I  had  felt  the  evening  before,  in 
contemplating  the  mai^nifU'ent  scenei-y  around. 
Indeed,  morning  is  p<H'u!i;uly  in  unison  with  the 
ct.ujnc'ss  and  freshness  of  a  f«)untain  ;  and  a  draught 
of  its  crystal  water,  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand,  pro- 
duced— oh  !  how  poetical  ! — a  most  convenient 
a]»[)etite  for  the  l)reakfast  of  classic  trout  of  Vau- 
eluse  wiiicli,  along  with  other  delicacies,  were  set 
before  mo.  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  mention, 
that  tlie  village  is  adorned  by  a  simple,  unprett-nd- 
int;  monument  to  the  memory  of  Petrarch  ;  but 
the  history  of  the  monument  is  curious.  A  com- 
mittee of  the  inhal)itants  superintended  the  disposal 
and  erection  of  the  monument  ;  and  where — oh  ! 
ye  admirer  of  the  wild  and  savage  in  nature — 
where  do  you  suppose  the  inhabitants  (»f  V'aueluse 
placed  this  monument  I  But  remember  that  the  in- 
habitants of  V'aucluse  are  French,  and  therefore 
wonder  the  less.  They  [>laced  the  trim  white  momi- 
ment  within  ten  yards  of  the  dark  majestic  rock 
that  rises  above  the  fountain  !  1  am  happy,  now 
that  the  Bourbon  family  has  passed  into  the  obli- 
vion it  deserves,  to  be  able  to  say  one  kind  thing  of 
any  of  that  fallen  race.  The  duchess  d'Angoulcme, 
travelling  through  the  south  of  France,  visited 
Vaueluse  ;  and,  seeing  the  monument  in  the  place 
to  which  the  taste  of  the  committee  had  adjudged 
it,  her  royal  highness  took  upon  herself  to  ordir 
its  removal  ;  and  it  now  stands  in  the  little  S(iuare 
or  market-place  of  the  village.  I  have  nothing 
more  to  add  of  Vaueluse. 

I  left  Vaueluse  to  return  to  Avignon,  after  an 
early  diimer,  with  i-very  prospect  of  being  over- 
taken by  a  st-mu,  which  soon  came  on.  It  proved 
to  be  one  of  those  violent  winds  to  which  the  south- 
ern parts  of  France  an^  so  liable,  and  whieh  are, 
in  their  nature  and  effects,  jjeculiar  to  the  j)ro- 
vinces  lying  around  the  (Julf  of  Lyons.  This  wind, 
called  in  I'rovence  liise,  is  the  ( 'ircius  of  the  ancients, 
mentioned  by  Seneca,  I'liny,  Diodorus,  and  Strabo. 
Diodorns,  in  the  tilth  book  of  his  history,  says, 
"  The  wind  blows  with  so  much  impetuosity,  that  it 
raises  up  stones  larger  than  the  fist,  and  clouds  of 
gravel.  It  is  so  violent,  that  it  carries  away  the 
arms  and  clothing  from  the  soldiers,  and  throws 
over  horses  and  their  riders.''  And  Strabo,  in 
speaking  of  tlu'  field  of  Hercules,  situated  bi'tween 
Marseilles  and  tlu-  mouths  of  the  Rhone,  says, 
"  The  north-wind  is  so  hoi-rible  and  violent  in  this 
place,  that  it  carries  stones  before  it,  throws  over 
men  and  their  chariots,  and  snatches  from  them 
their  arms  and  their  clothes."  Any  one  who  has 
had  the  misfortune  to  travel  in  the  south  of  France 
during  the  prevalence  of  this  furious  l>i,<>\  will  be 
al)le  to  recognise  the  truth  of  these  ileseriptions.  I, 
more  than  once,  left  the  carriage,  fearful  that  it 
might  be  blown  over  ;  and  my  face  bore  painful 
evi<lence  of  the  showers  of  small  gravel  which  it 
carried  alouL;  with  it.  This  wind  is  the  curse  of  all 
thes(>  provinces  ;  and  it  is  scarcely  possible,  in  tra- 
velling through  this  country,  to  meet  a  gi'cater 
misfortune  than  a  I'i.o'  wind,  especially  if  the  word 
"  met  t''  be  interi)reted  literally.  It  was  ojiposcd  to 
me  all  the  way  to  Avignon,  and  rendered  the  jour- 


ney one  of  the  most  unpleasant  I  ever  recollect. 
Its  effect  upon  the  frame,  too,  is  singularly  disa- 
greeable ;  it  parches  the  mouth  and  throat,  creates 
a  feeling  of  suffocation,  and  seems  to  dry  up  the 
whole  juices  of  the  body. 


'      CHAPTER  XXII. 

JOURNEY  TO  NISMES NISMES. 

Ignorance  of  some  Travellers— Journey  to  tlie  Pont  de  Card 
— Its  Magnificence — Arrival  at  Nismes — Necessary  Priva- 
tions—Character of  Nismes— Its  Antiquities— Errors  upon 
the  subject  of  French  Politeness. 

TiiKRF.  are  two  roads  from  Avignon  to  Nismes — 
one  of  these  passing  within  a  league  of  the  Font  de 
G'd-if,  that  most  imposing  anumg  Roman  reiiuiins, 
of  all  that  are  to  be  found  out  of  Italy.  No  one, 
therefore,  travelling  from  Avignon  to  Nismes,  can 
do  otherwise  than  choose  this  road.  I  cannot  help 
mentioning,  in  this  place,  the  extreme  ignorance  of 
purpose  with  which  scmie  jiersons  travel.  A  party 
of  young  Fnglishmen,  who  descended  the  Rhone 
along  with  me,  did  not  seem  to  be  provideil  with 
even  the  common  knowledge  aff'orded  by  a  gui<le- 
book  ;  for  one  of  them,  when  near  AvigiKju,  asked 
me,  how  one  could  get  from  Avignon  to  (Ii'ueva  i 
Finding  that  they  iia<l  left  (ieneva  Ijehind,  they 
resolved  upon  travelling  through  the  southern  pro- 
vinces ;  but  never  having  heard  of  either  Vaueluse 
or  th(^  Font  de  (Jard,  they  visited  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other,  until  meeting  them  again  acci- 
(U'utally  in  the  hotel  de  Luxembourg  at  Nismes, 
and  naturally  asking  how  they  liked  the  Font  de 
(Jard,  they  went  back  all  the  way  from  Montpelier 
to  see  it  ;  becaust^,  as  one  said,  "  people  may  ask 
about  it  at  home.'" 

1  left  Avignon  en  rahriJcf,  the  morning  after  I 
returned  from  Vaueluse  ;  and  journeyed  through 
a  very  uninterestiu'r  countrv — the  sweet  Frovenci'. 
it  was  not,  however,  a  plain,  but  a  constant  succis- 
sion  of  low  hills,  many  of  them  covered  with  vines, 
and  most  of  them  sprinkled  with  olives.  In  the 
morning,  the  />/.»■<  blew  furiously,  and  the  first  jiart  of 
the  journey  was  made  by  it  both  uncomfortable  and 
dangerous  ;  but  it  suddenly  fell,  and  a  perfect  calm 
succeeded.  A))out  mid-day,  i  reached  the  point 
where  the  road  diverges  to  the  I'ont  de  (Jard  r 
and,  leaving  my  cabriolet  at  an  auberge,  I  walke(l 
towards  the  aipieduet.  However  uninteresting 
Provence  is  in  some  respects,  it  is,  1  believe,  a  fine 
field  for  the  botanist.  I  picked  up,  in  this  short 
walk,  inimmerable  wild  flowers :  an<l,  in  many 
places,  the  air  was  filled  with  tlu'  fragrance  of  aro- 
matic })lants.  Lavender,  sweetmarjorum,  and  pep- 
permint, were  thickly  scatten  d  around  ;  and  all 
the  acclivities  wen-  covered  with  box  in  Hower. 

1  shall  not  easily  forget  the  imi>ression  made  upon 
me  by  the  first  view  of  the  Font  de  (Jai'd  ;  and  the 
impression  was  not  diminished  by  a  nearer  approach 
to  it.  This  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  sj>U'n<lid 
relics  of  the  Ronuin  empire  ;  and,  whether  to  the 
anti'iuarian,  or  to  the  nu-re  lover  of  the  pietures(|ue 
and  the  sublime,  it  nuist  ever  be  looked  upon  as  one 
of  the  most  interesting  of  all  the  monuments  (»f 
antitjuity.  Even  were  then'  no  I'ont  de  (lard,  the 
valley  of  the  (iardon  would  be  beautiful  ;  but, 
spanned  by  this  majestic  aqueduct,  the  character  <if 


CHAP.  XXII.] 


NISMES. 


69 


sublimity  is  added  to  the  naturally  picturesque 
features  of  the  valley. 

Antiquarians  are  nearly  agreed,  that  the  Pont  de 
Gard  is  a  part  of  that  stupendous  aqueduct  whieh 
conveyed  to  Nismes  the  waters  of  the  Eure  and  the 
Wrau — both  having  their  sources  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Uzes ;  and  which  must,  therefore,  have  been 
upwards  of  twenty  miles  in  length.  The  two  sides 
of  the  valley,  or  banks  of  the  Garden,  connected  by 
this  aqueduct,  are  distant  from  each  other  about 
«00  feet.  The  a(iueduct  is  formed  upon  three 
bridges,  one  above  the  other  ; — the  total  height  from 
the  level  of  the  river  to  the  top  of  the  aqueduct 
being  15fi  feet.  The  undermost  of  the  bridges 
consists  of  six  arches,  through  the  largest  of  which 
the  river  i)asses.  The  middle  briilge  has  eleven 
arches  ;  and  the  uppermost  has  thirty-five  arches. 
Above  this  is  the  aqueduct,  which  is  four  feet  and 
a  half  high,  and  four  feet  wide.  The  arclu>s,  both 
of  the  lower  and  of  the  middle  bridge,  are  unecjual  ; 
whieh,  if  it  does  not  increase  the  architectural 
beauty  of  the  structure,  certainly  adds  to  its  ])ic- 
turesque  effect.  The  two  lower  stories  of  the  bridge 
are  formed  of  lunvn  stones,  placed  together  without 
the  aid  of  any  cement  ;  but  the  mason-work  under- 
neath the  aqueduct  is  of  rough  stones  cemented,  by 
which  all  filtration  was  of  course  prevented. 

1 1  is  impossible  to  view  this  stupendous  relic  with- 
out the  truest  delight.  There  is  no  occasion  to 
enter  into  and  understand  the  details  of  antiqua- 
rianism,  that  we  may  enj(»y  its  magnificence.  As  a 
fine  and  imjiosing  object,  in  coimexion  with  the  sur- 
rounding scenery,  it  is  worth  a  pilgrimage  ; — as  a 
relic  of  other  days,  it  is  wonderful  and  impressive. 
We  know  not  the  ])reeise  era  of  its  construction  ; 
but  we  know  that  2000  vears  have  nearlv  elai)sed 
since  the  Roman  workmen  rested  upon  the  summit, 
and  threw  down  their  tools.  All  that  these  Romans 
attempted,  was  commensurate  with  the  extent  and 
si'eniing  stability  of  the  empire  ;  but  they  guessed 
not  that  the  work  of  their  hammer  and  their  chisel 
would  outlive  a  thousand  years,  the  glory  of  that 
emjiire. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  greatness  of  this  mo- 
nunu'ut  is  most  conspicuous  seen  below,  or  from  its 
summit.  The  traveller  must  view  it  from  both 
positions.  I  remained  long  seated  imderneath  a 
rock,  about  [WO  yards  down  the  river  ;  and  from  this 
spot,  the  union  of  the  grand  and  the  picturestjue — 
of  the  wild  nunantic  features  of  nature,  with  the 
luajestic  and  unperishing  work  of  art — is  complete. 
I  tiien  climbed,  by  a  difticult  ascent,  among  rocks 
and  tangled  shrubs,  to  the  summit  ;  and  examined, 
thoui:h  not  with  a  critic's  eye,  the  aqueduct  ;  and 
walked  along  ami  through  it,  till  some  gaps  and 
doubtfvd  footing  forced  me  to  return  The  stupen- 
dous dimensions  of  the  structure  are  made  more 
obvions  from  every  jjoint,  by  the  erection  of  a  mo- 
dern bridge  across  the  ri\er,  one  side  of  which  is 
supported  upon  the  ancient  bridge.  The  modern 
bridge  is  fine  and  elevated  ;  but,  oh  !  how  insig- 
niticant  beside  its  majestic  n^'ighbour  !  The  top 
parapet  of  the  modern  bridge  does  not  reach  half 
way  up  the  lowest  tier  of  arches  of  the  Pont  de  Gard. 
1  turned  away  unwillingly  from  this  im})osing  mo- 
nument, which  I  yet  often  see  in  fancy,  spanning  the 
deep  valley,  seeming  like  a  bridge  constructed  for 
the  use  of"  giants,  rather  than  of  men — the  work, 
too,  of  colossal  hands. 

In  returning  to  the  inn  where  I  had  left  my  car- 


riage, I  kept  by  the  river-side,  in  place  of  going 
along  the  road,  that  I  might  not  lose  too  soon  the 
view  of  the  object  I  had  come  to  see  ;  but  finding 
that  the  curve  would  can'y  me,  I  knew  not  how  far, 
out  of  the  way,  I  endeavoured  to  find  a  ]>ath  to  the 
road,  by  crossing  a  thick  wood  that  lay  between  the 
road  and  the  river  ;  but  I  soon  lost  myself  hi  its 
intricacies  ;  and  wlien  I  emerged  from  it,  I  found 
that  I  had  walked  two  hours  without  having  ad- 
vanced 300  vards  from  the  Font  de  Gard.  But  I 
scarcely  regretted  this,  both  because  1  saw  once 
more  that  majestic  object  which  1  had  never  ex- 
pected to  see  again ;  and  because,  in  my  w  auderings 
through  the  wood,  I  had  found  vei'dure,  shade,  and 
coolness — all  rarities  in  Frovence.  It  was  late 
when  I  reached  the  auberge,  and  night  when  I 
arrived  at  Nismes,  where  I  found  excellent  accom- 
modation in  the  hotel  d<-  Lujcinhofinj.  But  when 
I  speak  of  excellent  accommodation  in  the  south  of 
France,  this  is  to  be  understo(»d  with  one  reserve 
upon  its  excellence.  I  mean  filth — particularly  the 
plague  of  fieas,  which  abound  all  over  these  parts — 
even  in  the  very  best  hotels.  I  have  fre<|uently 
been  obliged  to  walk  through  mv  bed-room  from 
one  chair  to  another ;  and  1  always  found  it  a 
necessary  precaution  to  undress  u])on  a  chair,  that 
I  might  not,  by  ])utting  a  foot  uj)on  the  ground, 
carry  into  bed  with  me  half  a  score  of  tormentors. 
A  traveller  will  also  ])erhai)S  look  upon  it  as  a 
grievous  thing,  and  a  direct  proof  of  bad  accommo- 
dation, that  if  he  ring  the  bell,  and  ask  for  butter 
— (for  what  Englishman  can  breakfast  without 
butter  ?) — the  answer  is,  ''  7/  n\tf  en  a yas.''^  Puur- 
quu'i  ?  For  this  reason,  that  in  the  temperature  of 
the  south  of  France  during  the  summer  months,  the 
only  kind  of  butter  that  ecjuld  be  produced  would 
be  melted  butter,  which  might  suit  a  Russian,  but 
nobody  else.  And  there  is  another  reason  why 
butter  is  not  to  be  had.  Pasture  is  scarce,  and 
therefore  milk  is  scarce  :  and  all  the  milk  that  can 
be  ])i'ocured  is  used  for  r<(fi-  an  la'if,  without  which, 
it  is  well  known,  a  Frenchman  cannot  exist.  It  is, 
thei'efore,  (juite  unnecessary  to  ring  the  bell  and 
ask  for  butter. 

I  like  Nismes  better  than  any  citv  in  the  south 
of  France.  It  is  cleaner  than  any  of  the  othei*s. 
There  is  rather  more  shade  about  it  ;  the  pro- 
menades are  finer  ;  and  its  antiquities  give  to  it  a 
pre-eminence  of  one  kind  over  every  city  in  Euroi»e, 
excepting,  of  course,  the  cities  of  Italy.  Many  of 
the  modern  buildings,  too,  are  fine,  and  the  private 
houses  are  resi)ectable,  if  not  handsome.  The 
streets  indeed  would  have  been  better,  had  they 
been  a  little  narrower  ;  for  it  is  not  possible  to  walk 
through  the  town,  as  in  Avignon,  without  stepphig 
out  of  the  shade.  At  Nismes  we  find  ourselves 
arrived  in  that  latitude  where  night  is  converted 
into  dav.  During  the  dav,  the  streets  are  com- 
j)aratively  deserted  ;  but  at  sunset,  every  one  leaves 
ills  house  ;  the  streets  and  the  promenades  are 
crowded  ;  and  until  after  midnight,  there  is  nothing 
like  silence  iu  any  part  of  the  town. 

I  began  my  tour  of  the  antiquities  at  sunrise  next 
morning  ;  and  first  visited  the  am}»hitheatre,  which 
has  the  reputation  of  being  the  most  in  preservation 
of  any  of  the  Roman  am})hitheatres  of  which  the 
cities  of  Italy,  Spain,  or  France,  can  boast.  It  is 
certainly  the  most  perfect  that  I  have  seen.  It  is 
elliptical  hi  its  foi'm.  Its  length  is  412  feet,  and  its 
breadth  30(>  feet.    The  wall  all  round  is  entire,  and 


70 


NISMES. 


[chap.  XXII. 


is  embellished  by  two  rows,  each  of  sixty  arcades, 
one  above  another.  The  good  taste  of  tlie  civil  au- 
thorities of  Nismes  has  prevented  all  building  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  this  splendid  remain.  A  larg«> 
void  space  almost  surrounds  it,  and  it  is  open  to- 
wards the  west,  to  receive  tlie  rays  of  the  setting 
sun.  How  insensible  does  habit  render  us  both  to 
beauty  and  deformity  !  I  noticed  hundreds,  I  might 
say  thousands,  of  the  inhabitants  pass  aci^oss  the 
S(iuare  ;  and  I  scarcely  saw  one  turn  his  eyes 
towards  that  glorious  edifice,  which  is  not  only 
the  pride  of  the  city,  but,  as  a  relic  of  past  ag«-s, 
one  of  the  most  woudei-ful  monuments  that  the 
world  contains. 

The  interior  of  the  amphitheatre  fully  maintains 
the  interest  awakened  by  viewing  the  exterior. 
Thirty-five  rows  of  steps,  once  the  seats  of  the  spec- 
tators, rise  the  wliole  way  round  from  the  arena  to 
the  summit  of  the  wall  ;  and  all  is  yet — not  indeed 
as  it  was  2000  years  ago,  but — in  sueh  a  condition 
as  might  lead  one  unac(iuainted  with  antiquities  to 
guess,  that  three  or  four  hundred  years  had  i)erhaps 
passed  over  it.  Rank  grass  indeed  grows  on  the 
arena  ;  and  weeds,  and  Howers,  and  tangled  roots, 
spring  up  among  the  seats,  and  creep  over  tin;  walls  ; 
and  wild-fowl  nestle,  and  lizards  play,  in  their 
crevices  ;  but  the  walls  are  solid,  and  the  stone- 
seats  are  all  there  ;  and  spectators  might  yet  as- 
semble, and  gladiators  fight,  within  its  precincts. 
It  is  said  that  this  am|)hitlieatre  sufficed  to  contain 
25,000  spectators.  In  this,  however,  I  suspect 
there  is  some  exaggeration.  I  judge  by  the  com- 
parative size,  and  nundjer  of  pi  rsons  seated  in  the 
buildings  in  the  Spanisli  eities,  which  are  dedicated 
to  the  bull-figiits.  Their  construction  is  precisely 
similar  to  that  of  a  Roman  amjihitheatre,  excepting 
that  they  are  generally  circular,  in  place  of  being 
elliptical.  About  a  year  after  seeing  the  amjthi- 
theatre  of  Nismes,  1  saw  the  Spanish  bull-fights  ; 
and  preserving  then  a  tolerably  accurate  recollec- 
tion of  the  amphitheatre  of  Nismes,  I  thought  the 
P/a:(i  (h'  fax  'Inri'S  at  Madrid  considerably  exceeded 
the  size  of  the  Roman  amphitheatri-,  and  yet  the 
former  will  not  contain  more  than  20,000  spec- 
tators. 

The  French  government — be  it  Bourbon,  Cor- 
sican,  or  any  other — deserves  praise  on  account  of 
the  jealous  care  with  which  it  watches  over  the 
preservation  of  the  m(mumentsof  antiquity  that  are 
found  in  France.  1  noticed  at  the  amphitheatre, 
and  at  all  the  other  antiquitiis  of  Nisnies,  guards 
placed,  to  pi'oti'ct  tluni  against  the  injuries  of  the 
mischievous  or  the  thoughtless.  This  feeling  of 
reverence,  which  no  doubt  has  its  oiigin  in  French 
vanity,  and  which  has  probably  therefore  o])erated 
from  the  earliest  tiuKs,  is,  without  doubt,  one  cause 
of  the  excellent  i)reservation  in  which  all  the  Roman 
monuments  in  France  are  still  found. 

I'rom  the  amphitheatre*  1  directed  my  steps  to 
the  Maison  Carm ,  the  absurd  name  by  which  this 
relic  is  known.  If  the  Po)tt  tie  Gard  and  the  amphi- 
theatre are  stupendous,  majestic,  and  imposing,  the 
i>^(^^■oH  ra/r(%' is  beautiful.  Antiipuirians,  1  believe, 
prefer  it  to  them  all  ;  partly  because  it  is  the  most 
perfect  Roman  remain  to  be  found  in  the  world — not 
exce[)ting  Italy  ;  and  partly  because  sonu'  mystery 
was  long  sui>j>osed  to  liang  over  its  t>rigin  anil  use. 
This  ground  of  interest  is,how(>V(  r,  I  beliive,  nearly 
at  an  end  ;  for,  in  the  year  IJoH,  J/.  SUjiirr  dis- 
covered  accidentally  the  following  inscription  : — 


C.  CAKSARI.  AVGVSTI.  F.  COS.  L.  CAESARl  AVGVS7I  F.  COS. 

DESiGNATO  l'RI^CIPIBVs  iNVENTVTis, — which  proves 
that  this  was  a  temple  erected  in  lionour  of  Cains 
and  Lucius  CYesar,  the  grandsons  of  Augustus.  It 
was  therefore  built  sometime  about  the  middle  of 
the  eighth  century  from  the  foundation  of  Rome — 
the  epoch  of  the  first  estaldishment  of  Christianity. 
From  the  name  M(tb<>u  ('(irrci',  it  may  l»e  gathered, 
that  the  building  is  rectangular.  It  is  an  oblong 
S([uare,  quite  en  jn'tit,  being  only  seventy-five  feet 
one  way,  and  thirty-nine  the  other  ;  and  the  height 
is  also  thirty-nine  feet  ;  but  it  is  indeed  a  gem,  }>er- 
fect  and  beautiful.  Within,  it  is  adorned  by  thirty 
columns  of  the  Corinthian  style,  the  frieze  and 
capitals  of  which  are  sculptured  w ith  the  utmost 
taste. 

Many  have  been  the  honours  rendered  to  tlie  3/ 1//- 
gon  Carrie.  Architects  from  all  j)arts  of  Europe,  even 
fn)m  Rome,  have  travelled  to  Nismes,  to  take  mo- 
dels from  it  in  jdaster  ;  and  Louis  XIV.  at  one  time 
entertained  the  project  of  having  the  building 
transj)orted  to  I'aris,  that  liis  architects  might  form 
their  taste  upon  it  ;  but  this  enterprise,  worthy  of  a 
vain  king,  surrounded  by  parasites,  who  tell  him 
that  his  power  is  boundless,  was  found  to  be  jieril- 
ous  ;  and  Nismes  has  retained  her  ornament.  An- 
tiepiarians  say,  that  the  walls  of  this  temple  were 
covered  with  bas  reliefs  in  marble  and  lironze, 
which  have  been  destroyed  or  stolen  ;  and  it  is  a 
curious  fact,  that  the  'temple  is  destitute  of  all 
other  light  than  that  whicli  is  admitted  by  the 
door. 

The  amphitheatre  and   the  M<u?»n  (arrvf  were 
sufficient  for  one  dav.     The  forenoon   was   indeed 
so  intensely  hot,  that  it  was  impossible  to  stir  out  ot 
doors  ;  but   the  gallery   in  the  court   of  the  hotel 
affords  an  airy  and  cool  promenade,  and  the  kitchen 
a  most  excellent  dinner.   (Jeiierally,  tliroughout  the 
cities  in  the  south   of  France,  there  are  two  taU,s 
(i'/toft — one  at  half-past  one,  the  other  at  four,  in  the 
princij)al  hotels  ;  and,  with  the  recollection  of  these 
l((l>l,s  d'lu'ih'  fresh  in  my  memory,  1  cannot  resist  the 
o})portunity  that  set  nis  to   be  open   to  me   in  this 
volume,  ofValling  in  (question  the  con-ectness  of  two 
very  connnon,   but   very  erroneous  opinions.      One 
of  these   is,  that  the   French   are   the  most    jiolite 
people   in   the   world.      Now   I    think    precisely   the 
reverse  ;  and  that  the  middle  classes  of  Frenchmen 
have  the  smallest  share  of  true  ])oliteness  of  any 
people  in   the  world.     A   very   si  Ifish  man  camiot 
lie  polite  :  and  a  very  self-conceited  man  cannot  be 
polite  ;  and  1  think  no  one  who  understands  nmch 
of  French   character,  will  hisitate   to  admit,  that 
it  is  not  untinctured  by  selfishness  or  vanity.      No 
place  is  better  suited  than  a  t<il>J,  d'ho/c  lor  discover- 
ing these  We  akmssis,  especially  tlie  former  ;  and  I 
think  it  impossible  that  one  can  rise  from  a  tuhh' 
d'h()t>',  in  any  })art  of  France,  witheiut   an  mifavemr- 
able'  impression  of   French  character,  particularly 
of    Fre'iich  i»oliteness.      Happy  is  the  man  who,  at 
a  French  tal>li   d'hote^  is  seated  near  the  president, 
or  gene-ral  carver  ;  e)r  whe)  has  tlu'  courage  te)  l)e 
inde\iende'nt  of  etiejuette-,  by  elra\\  ing   te)warels  him 
whate-ver  dish  he  fane-ie-s,  and  helping  himselt,  u  ith- 
out  regarding  his  neighbours,      1  have  a  hunelrtd 
tinu's  been    surprised   at  the  cool  effrontery   with 
wliich  a  Frenchman  \\\\\  swee  j)  the  i  atables  irom  a 
dish  eif  m/dU/i',  auel  j>ass  the  bare  beiiies  te»  hisneigli- 
liour  with  the  prettiest  bow  of  invitation,  and  per- 
luips  even,  "  Mons'uur  reut-il  prendre  un  morc^uu  de 


CHAP,  xxiii.l 


MONTPELIER. 


71 


rolaUUV^  when  all  the  Tolailk  has  been  transferred 
to  his  own  plate. 

lUit  another  failing  besides  selfishne-ss,  contributes 
te)wards  the  incivility  of  a  Frenchman  at  a  tahlc 
rl'koU' — I  mean  his  love  of  eating.     Here  I  come  to 
the   other    erroneous   0})inion   entertained    of  the 
French — that  they  are  small  eaters.     The  French 
are  (>ne»rnious  eaters  ;  and  1  do  ne)t  rt;ally  think  there 
are  in  the  character  of  the  French  any  more  i)ro- 
niinent  features  than  their  love  of  eating  what  is 
goexl,  and  their  love  of  eating  much.     The  French 
eneleavour  to  get  over  the  charge  by  saying,  that,  if 
they  eat  of  niany  things,  they  take  little  of  each. 
This  is  far  from  the  truth.     A  Frenchman  will  take 
eif  SOU])  and  fxtu'dle  alone,  as  much  as  would  suffice 
for  the  dinner  of  an  Englishman  of  moderate  appe- 
tite.    Ikit  this  is  only  the  commencement  of  his 
dinner  :  his  cotelette  is  to  ce)me,  his  ju)mon  is  to  come, 
his  TohiUlt',  his  rot'i,  hir.  >]V>h'r,  his  Kujidm?,  his  rre/w, 
his  dessert  ;    and  along  with  this  he  devours — for 
,nt  would  ne)t  half  express  the  eagerness  of  the 
action — he  devours  as  much  bread  as  would  serve 
the  household  of  an  English  family  for  a  day  ;  and 
while  he  thus  gormandizes,  he  will  turn  round  to 
ve)u,  and  say,  "  Vnuii  tinfrcs  wainyz  bemicoiip  j>h(S 
'<jne  nous.''     And  let  it  be  recollected,  that  it  is  not 
once  a  day,  but  twice  or  three  times,  that  a  French- 
man makes  the  tour  of  soup  and  beef,  and  cutlet 
anel  fowl,  and  roast,  and  vegetables,  anel  dessert. 
His  dl'iiuni  a  l<i  fviurhMe  scarcely  differs  from  his 
dinner  ;  and   his  supper   is   only  a  third   edition  of 
the  same  ;  and  yet  jieople  are  so  al)surd  as  to  say, 
that  the  French  eat  little.     I  lay  it  down  as  a  gene- 
nil  position,  that  every  Frenchman  is  an  epicure  ; 
and  that  ei>icurism  is'  not  unfrequently  allied  with 
gluttony.      I  have  never  seen  the  people   of  any 
country  lay  so  great  a  stress  upon  their  dinner  as 
the  French.     Bon  dhter  is  scarcely  ever  out  of  their 
mouths  ;    and  not   French  men  only,  but  French 
women  also,  married  women  at  least,  are  entitled  to 
be  classed  among  the  epicures.     1  ought  not  to  be 
entirely  ignorant  of  French  propensities  and  habits, 
for  I  have  spent  altogether  five  years  in  France  ; 
and  I  wish  I  possessed  as  much  the  power,  as  I 
liave  the  inclination,  to   draw  a  true  portrait  of 
French  character. 

Although  the  amphitheatre  and  the  Maison  Carrie 
are  the  two  most  interesting  of  the  remains  of  anti- 
epiity  in  Nismes,-there  are  several  others  deserving 
of  a'visit ;  but  more  interesting  to  the  antiquarian, 
than  to  the  traveller  who  is  uninformed  upon  these 
matters.  Among  these  the  Tourmagne,  from  the 
Latin  Turrls  mwfna,  and  one  of  tlie  gates  of  the  city, 
are  the  only  relics  of  which  almost  any  thing  is 
visible.  The'former  is  one  of  the  towers  of  the  Roman 
wall,  which  was  once  flanked  by  ninety  ;  but  this, 
it  is  believed,  was  the  greatest  of  them,  and  meant 
for  some  end  exclusively  its  own.  There  are  many 
surmises  as  to  what  this  end  may  have  been  ;  but 
inipiiries  of  this  kind  are  not  only  uninteresting,  but 
as  fruitless  as  they  are  useless. 

I  was  pleased  in  no  small  degree  with  the  garden 
of  Nismes,  which  contains  many  Roman  remains, 
particularly  baths,  in  a  state  of  great  perfection,  and 
(jf  va.st  extent  ;  and  many  statues  of  emperoi-s  and 
senators.  But  the  chief  attractions  of  the  garden, 
are  its  pleasant  shades  and  charming  variety  of 
fiowers,  among  which  I  luxuriated  each  of  the 
three  days  1  spent  at  Nismes,  during  some  of  the 
mornin<^  and  evening  hours.     These  days  sufficed 


to  gratify  curiosity,  and  I  left  Nismes  for  Mont- 
pelier. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MONTPELIER — NARBONNE. 

Montpelier,  its  Climate  and  Reputation— Montpelier  as  a 
Residence— A  .Tour  de  Fete— Api)arent  Inconsistencies  of 
French  Cliaracter- Journey  te)  Narboiine— Cette,  and  its 
Manufactory  of  Wines  — La  Maladie  Noir— Bezieres- 
French  Brandy  Manufactories  —  Narbonne  —  Xarbonne 
Honey— Fruit-Markets— Journey  to  Perpignan— The  Me- 
diterranean—Perpignan  and  its  Population— the  Citadel 
— French  Opinions  of  Prussia  and  England- Expenses  in 
the  South  of  France— Journey  to  Carcassone— "  Hair- 
breadth 'scapes"— Quillan—Limoux— Champagne  du  Midi 
—Carcassone— Husbandry  in  Languedoc. 

The  country  between  Nismes  and  Meintpelier  is  a 
wine,  olive,  and  fruit  country  ;  and  although  neither 
picturesque  nor  in  any  way  remarkal)ly  interesting, 
it  was  a  great  improvement  ui)on  the  country  lying 
to  the  east  of  it.  Montpelier  is  seen  at  a  consider- 
able distance  before  aiTiving  in  it,  seated  upon  two 
hills,  and  certainly  presents  an  impe)sing  ajipearance. 
I  reached  this  celebrated  city  before  dinner,  and 
established  myself  in  the  hotel  da  Mhil. 

I  call  Montpelier  celebrated,  because  its  name 
has  passed  into  a  by- word  lor  salubrity  of  climate. 
Every  country  has  its  MonfjK'I'wr.  In  England, 
several  spots  have  claimed  to  be  its  Montpelier. 
Scotland  has  also  its  Montpelier.  Nancy  is  the 
I^Iontpelier  of  the  north  of  France  ;  Utrecht  the 
Montpelier  of  Holland.  Ireland,  1  have  no  doubt, 
has  its  Me)ntpelier  ;  and  I  almost  think  Norway  and 
Sweden  have  their  Montpeliers.     All  these  lumours 


are  surelv  enoug 


h  for 


the  fame  of  one  city  , 


and 


Montpelier,  the  genuine  Montpelier,  must  de)ubtless 
be  deserving  of  its  honours.  Medical  men,  how- 
ever I  believe,  begin  to  doubt  this  ;  and  this  doubt 
has  had  a  material  influence  upon  the  prosperity  of 
the  town.  In  former  times,  about  twenty  or  thirty 
years  ago,  two  hundred  p:nglish  families  were  some- 
times resident  there  ;  but  since  fashion,  caprice,  or 
experiment,  have  sent  consumptive  patients  to  die 
in  Madeira  or  Naples,  in  place  of  Montpelier,  that 
number  is  reduced  to  forty  or  fifty  families  ;  and 
these,  I  believe,  resort  to  Montpelier  less  for  the 
sake  of  health  than  of  economy. 

The  Montpelier  of  the  imagination,  and  the  Mont- 
pelier of  reality,  are  very  different  places.  The 
fen-mer  is  a  spot  of  charming  retirement,  surrounded 
by  beauty  and  shade  ;  sweet  and  noiseless,  except 
the  rtiurmur  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  song  of 
nightingales.  The  real  Montpelier  is  a  large,  bus- 
tling, and  rather  noisy  city,  with  fertility  around  it, 
but'scanty  shade  ;  and  the  murmur  of  the  sea  only 
to  be  heard  by  a  six  miles'  ride.  But  still  ^Iont- 
pelier  has  many  advantages  as  a  residence.  What- 
ever may  hare' been  the  doubts  that  have  sent  the 
consumptive  i)atient  farther  south,  it  is  undeniable 
that  the  air  of  Montpelier  is  salubrious,  possessing 
the  mildness  which  belongs  to  a  southern  climate, 
and  yet  having  its  heat  tempered  by  the  sea-breeze. 
It  is'also  a  cheap  residence  ;  the  more  so,  from  the 
now  diminished  influx  of  strangers,  1  knew  a  gen- 
tleman in  Montpelier,  who  gave  sixty  francs  per 
month  for  a  comme)dious  second  story  of  a  house, 
well  furnished.     This  w  as  not  above  1 2s.  per  week  ; 


f 


72 


MONTrELIER. 


[chap,  xxiii. 


i 


tl 


and  two  well-furnished  rooms  may  be  obtained  in 
twenty  places  for  10s.  Living  is  not  expensive, 
thoiijih  not  so  cheap  as  lumse-rt-iit.  Uai'  iiw\  mut- 
ton an-  from  r»il.  to  (h\.  per  11).  Fish,  of  which  there 
are  sonjctiines  twenty  kinds  in  the  market,  ranges 
according  to  its  kind,  <iuality,  and  scarcity,  from 
five  to  twenty  sous  per  Ih.  A  gt>od  sole  usually 
costs  about  5(1.  Fruit  and  vegctahhs  are  both 
cheap,  and  good  wine  of  St.  George  is  sold  at  tifteen 
sous  per  boUle  ;  old  St.  (leorge  of  the  best  (luality 
costs  two  francs.  .NFilk  is  of  course  dear,  and  butter 
only  to  he  had  in  cold  weather. 

The  liot.'f  (la  Midi  at  Montpelier  is  one  of  the 
most  excellent  in  the  south  of  France.  I  counted 
on  the  UMe  tVhote  no  fewer  thun  sixty  dishes, 
exclusive  of  dessert.  Tea  a  /'  Anjl'i'^,  of  a  most 
exquisite  flavour,  an<l  with  milk  too,  is  to  be  had  in 
this  hotel  ;  and  so  amhiti<.us  are  they  of  perfection, 
that  even  butter  was  produced  ;  but  this  turned  out 
to  be  lard.  It  is  surprising,  that  in  tlie  hotels  in 
the  south  of  France,  where  fresh  butter  is  nowhere 
to  be  obtained,  that  salted  butter  has  not  been 
thought  of.  Even  in  the  most  southerly  of  the 
Spanish  cities,  every  hotel  is  provided  with  Irish  or 
Dutch  butter  in  cask  ;  and  I  have  eaten  in  Grenada 
as  excellent  butter  as  ct)uld  be  purchased  in  London. 
There  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  this  ;  Itecause  tlie 
steam-packet  for  the  Levant  touches  at  Gadi/  every 
fortnight,  being  only  eight  or  ten  days  out  of  Lon- 
don ;  but  the  south  of  France  possesses  even  greater 
facilities  for  intercourse  with  Loudon  by  way  of 
Bourdeaux,  than  the  south  of  Spain  ;  and  butter 
enters  as  little  into  the  cu'ighie  of  the  one  country  as 
of  the  other. 

One  of  the  days  I  spent  at  Montpelier  chanced 
to  be  some  great  joui'  <k  jXte.  In  the  evening,  the 
promenade  was  illuminated,  and  all  the  inhabitants 
of  Montpelier  assembled  there.  (Jriefs,  cares,  re- 
grets, anxieties,  seemed  all  to  have  been  left  at 
home.  There  were  holiday  faces  there  by  thou- 
sands, as  well  as  holiday  dresses  ;  and  I  believe 
the  hearts  and  minds  had  their  holiday  too.  One 
grand  distinction  between  French  and  Fnglisji  cha- 
racter lies  in  this,  that  wlun  the  English  determine 
to  be  happy,  ihey  never  succeed  ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  wlu-n  the  morning  of  a  holiday  arrives, 
when  a  'loar  d>  j'iti'  invites  a  I'renchman  to  join  in 
its  gaieties,  he  resolves  to  enjoy  himstlf,  and  his 
resolution  is  carried  into  effect ;  he  is  always  ready 
to  say, 

To-niRht— at  least  tonifrht  be  gay, 
Whatt'tT  to-morrow  bring. 

Mow  extraordinary  a  riddle  is  French  character  ! 
Made  uj)  of  contradictious,  it  defies  the  philosopher, 
and  staggers  the  }»hrenologist,  with  all  iiis  skill  in 
balances  and  neutralizations ;  though,  1  confess, 
1  think  these  seeming  contradictions  may  be  ex- 
j)lained  more  satisfact(jrily  l)y  the  disciple  of  the 
seli<j(d  of  many  organs,  than  by  the  belii-ver  in  the 
mind  one  and  indivisible.  An  enthusiast  in  war, 
an  enthusiast  in  science,  an  enthusiast  in  trifling, 
and  yet  no  real  enthusiast  after  all — for  how  can 
there  be  enthusiasm  in  a  [)eople  destitute  of  poetry 
and  sentiment  i  a  Frenchman  seems  to  be  an  inex- 
plicaltle  being.  But  all  the  ai)parent  contradictions 
in  his  character  liave  their  oriii;in,  1  suspt>et,  in 
one  passion  —  national  vanity.  It  is  nut  the  love  of 
fiLrhtin''  that  leads  a  French  army  from  Paris  to 
Moscow,  but  f.'i  ijlinre.     The  phlloaophe  who  sits  at 


his  midnight  lamj),  caimot  contemplate  his  triumph 
and  discoveries,  without  mixing  tiiem  up  with  la 
illuirc  of  another   kind  —  tlie  scientific   reputation  of 
/((  >inimh-  ndtlon.     And  when  a   Frenchman  hurries 
to  the  Theatre  Fran^alSy  to  witness  tlie  representa- 
tion of  a  comedy  of  Moliere,  or  a  tragedy  of  lliicine, 
or  Voltaire,  a  view  to  his  own  gratification  is  not 
the  sole  impelling  motive  ;  he  fancies — nay  he  is 
sure — that  /d  comtdie  Fran^aise  is  the  niost  perfect 
in  the  world  ;  that  there  never  was  but  one  Racine, 
or  one  Voltaire  ;  ami  tliat  it  is  a  duty  to  uphold  and 
jtatronise  that   whii-h  so  nearly  concerns  the  glory 
of  his  country.     Tlu'  national  vanity  of  the  Frencli 
is  boundless  and  incurable.    It  enjhraces  the  whole 
range  of  the  arts  and  sciences — all   that   in   which 
men  contend  for  j>re-eminence, or  i)ride  themselves  in. 
It  is  this  that  carries  a   Frenchman  to  the  u^ionU- 
mic  de  Mutflque,  to  listen  to  the  worst  music  in  the 
world — tiiis  tiiat  crowds  the  gallery  of  the  French 
school   of  ])nintin!^,  and    leaves   the    Italuin   school 
neglected — this  that  produces  a  thousand  copies  of 
./A(n//,and  not  oneof  Raphael,  or  Titian,  or  Murillo — 
this  that  endured  the  despotism  of  Louis  XIV.,  be- 
cause he  was   tl'.e   vainest  of  kings,  and  loved  /<i 
.fluin — this   that   tore   down   the   bastile,  nmrdered 
a  king,  and  abjured  tJod,  because  such  things  were 
a  spectacle  for  the  world  to  gaze  at — this  that  re- 
ceived the  yoke  of  Napoleon,  because  the  spectacle 
of  revolution   was  no  longer  new,  and  because  his 
ambition  and  A(  (/Am"/v  Frnn(;<ihc  went  hand  in  hand — 
this  that  encouraged  industry,  commerce,  and  ma- 
nufacturis,   during  fift»-eu  yeai*s,  because   France 
could   not  be  irreat  without  them — and  finallv,  this 
that  now   threatens  to   desolate    Europe   with   the 
scourge  of  war,  Ijccause  l<i  <jramh  nation  is  begin- 
ning to  be  forgotten.     Much  good,  and  nnich  evil, 
has  arisen  from  the  predominance  of  a  passion  liki- 
this  ;  but  it  is  evidently  impossible  to  calculate  ujjou 
the  actions  of  a  people  who  are  .so  governed. 

Having  seen  all   that  was  worthy  of  observation 
in   .Montjielier,   I   took  the  road  to  Narboime.     It 
runs  within  a  league  or  two  of  the  .sea  all  the  way  ; 
J)ut,  owing  to  the  ine(|ualities  of  the  ground,  and 
particularly  a  range  of  cliffs  that  lie  to   the  left, 
the  Mediterranean   is  scarcely  ever  seen  from  the 
road.     About  tlu-ee  leagues  after  leaving  Montpe- 
lier,  these  cliffs  assume    the   elevation   of   a    hill, 
crowned  by  the  castle  of  the  well-known  town  of 
( '<'tt,',  which    lies  under  it.      At  this  town  every  out; 
of  the  celebrated  wint-s  of  Euro})(>  is  manufactured. 
Port,    Sherry,     Glarets,    Burgundy,    Ghampagui-, 
Hock,  are  all  turned  out  from  the  manufactory  of 
Gette,  and  sent  to  the  different  cities  of  Europe,  to 
sup])ly  cheap  dealers,  and  economical  wine-drinkers. 
These  wines  are,  however,  .sent  in  greater  quan- 
tities to  all  other  countries  than  England  ;  because 
the  high   duties  liitherto  payable  u{)on  wines  ex- 
ported from    Franci',  have   jjrevented   the   manu- 
factured port  of  Gette  from  entering  the  English 
market  at  a  lower  price  than  the  genuine  wine  of 
Portugal.      It   is  said,  however,  that  Cette  clarets 
and  champagnes   have  found   their  way   in   large 
<juantities  to  England — a  fact  that  partly  explains 
cheap  French  wine  advertisements.    The  matirials 
used  in  the  manufactured  wines  of  Gette,  are  ciiiefly 
the   wines  of  Catalonia,   Roussillon,  and   Limoux, 
and  the  brandy  of   Be/icres.      With  the.se,  the  peo- 
[tle  of  Gette  say,  all  thini^s  are  possible. 

1  was  anmsed  at  a  small  town  between  Montpe- 
lier and  Beziures,  at  which  I  stopped  to  dine,  with 


CHAP.  XXIII.] 


NARBONNE. 


73 


the  conversation  of  a  French  gentleman  at  the 
irtW^  ^'^o^',  who  entertained  the  company  with  an 
exi)lanation  of  the  reason  why  the  English  travel 
so  much.  He  said  this  was  owing  to  a  disease 
brought  on  by  the  fogs  ;  that  it  was  called  in  France 
la  mnladie  noire ;  that  its  symptoms  were  low  spirits, 
and  a  desire  to  move  from  one  place  to  another ; 
and  that  the  only  cure  was  foreign  travel.  He  ap- 
pealed to  me,  whether  or  not  he  spoke  the  truth  ; 
and,  as  I  really  thought  he  had  described  the  dis- 
ease fairly,  I  admitted  that  he  was  right  ;  and  that, 
before  I  left  England,  I  was  grievously  afflicted 
with  it. 

Bezicros,  which  lies  about  four  leagues  short  of 
Narl)onne,  and  about  three  leagues  from  the  sea,  is 
one  of  the  most  flourishing  towns  in  the  south  of 
France.  This  prosperity  arises  from  its  extensive 
maimfactory  of  eau  de  tie,  which  is  only  inferior 
to  the  eaii  de  rie  of  Cogniac.  French  brandy  is  as 
various  in  its  (juality  as  English  gin.  Every  coun- 
try, in  fact,  that  produces  wine,  produces  eau  de 
rir;  and  the  quality  of  the  brandy  is,  generally,  in 
an  inverse  ratio  to  the  quality  of  the  wine.  In  all 
the  districts  that  produce  the  most  esteemed  wines, 
the  woi*st  brandy  is  made  ;  for  the  obvious  reason, 
that  in  these  it  is  made  from  the  refuse,  after  the 
wine  has  been  extracted  ;  but  where  the  grape  is 
unfit  f(n'  the  produce  of  good  wine,  the  eau  de  rie  is 
manufactured  from  the  pure  grape.  The  worst 
brandy  in  France  is  made  in  Ghampagne  and  Medoc, 
wliich  are  the  choicest  wine  districts  ;  and  the  best, 
at  Gogniac  and  Bezieres.  Many  brandies  of  France, 
besides  those  of  Gogniac  and  Bezieres,  find  their  way 
into  the  English  market ;  and  all  are  sold  under 
the  generic  name  of  French  brandy.  But  brandy 
may  be  genuine  French  ])randy,  that  is,  brandy 
really  maimfactured  in  France,  and  may  yet  be 
execrably  bad. 

Between  Bezieres  and  Narbonne,  there  is  little 
to  interest  the  traveller  ;  but,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Narbonne,  the  country  becomes  agreeable, 
the  banks  of  the  Aude  are  fertile  and  pretty,  and 
numerous  orchards  and  gardens  lie  around  the 
tow  11.  Narbonne  is  chiefly  celebrated  for  its  honey, 
which  is  said  to  be  the  finest  in  the  world  ;  but 
that  which  I  tasted  there  I  thought  too  odoriferous. 
One  might  lancy  himself  eating  a  bouquet.  It  is 
certainly  totally  different  in  its  flavour,  and  of  a 
higher  flavour,  than  any  other  honey  ;  but  if  the 
same  system  vvei-e  pursued  in  other  countries  in 
the  management  of  the  hive,  honey  of  a  high  fla- 
vour miglit  be  produced  elsewhere  than  at  Nar- 
bonne. The  peculiar  excellence  of  the  Narbonne 
honey  is  owing  to  the  variety  in  the  nourishment 
of  the  bees.  The  hives  are  moved  from  one  place 
to  another.  From  the  gardens  of  Narbonne,  they 
are  carried  to  the  meadows  in  the  neighbourhood  ; 
and  they  are  afterwards  conveyed  thirty  or  forty 
miles  distant,  as  far  as  the  Low  Pyrenees  ;  so  that 
the  treasures  of  the  gardens,  the  meadows,  and  the 
mountains,  are  all  i-ifled,  to  ])roduce  the  honey  of 
Narbonne.  In  England,  this  system,  although  it 
would  doubtless  be  attended  by  corresponding  ad- 
vantases,  could  not  effect  all  that  it  effects  at  Nar- 
bonne,  l)ccause  numerous  aromatic  plants,  tliat  are 
found  in  abundance  over  the  most  southern  of  the 
French  [)rovinces,  are  not  indigenous  to  England  ; 
but  the  trial  is  worth  making. 

Narbonne  is  an  ancient  city,  with  a  fine  cliurch, 
and  contjiins  several  Roman  antiquities,  not,  how- 


ever, in  sufficient  preservation  to  interest  any  one 
but  an  antiquarian.  I  was  particularly  pleased 
with  the  fruit-market,  which  exhibited  a  choice 
and  abundant  display  of  all  that  tempts  the  palate 
and  allures  the  eye.  I  filled  my  caj)  with  straw- 
berries, and  my  pockets  with  nectarines  ;  and  with 
the  addition  of  honey,  bread,  and  some  milk,  which 
cost  more  inquiry,  and  much  more  money,  than  all 
the  rest,  I  made  a  luxurious  breakfast.  Narbonne 
has  scarcely  any  manufacture,  and  lives  partly  by 
its  trade  in  honey,  partly  by  the  transit  trade  with 
Spain.  The  wages  of  labour  here  are  extremely 
low,  not  more  than  one  franc  per  day  ;  and  the 
necessaries  of  life  are  obtained  at  an  easy  rate. 
Among  these,  meat  is  not  reckoned  by  tlie  lower 
ordei-s  ;  for,  at  Narbonne,  we  have  got  so  far  south, 
as  to  discover  something  of  those  indolent  habits 
which  produce,  in  still  more  southern  countries,  a 
distaste  for  all  exertion  bevond  that  which  is  ne- 
cessary  to  preserve  existence,  and  which  limit  the 
necessities  of  life  to  the  natural  productions  of  the 
soil. 

At  Narbonne,  the  great  road  through  the  most 
southern  provinces  diverges  to  the  right.  Passing 
through  Carcassone,  towards  Thoulouse,  the  only 
other  road  leads  south  to  Perpignan,  and  is  the 
great  road  to  Spain.  I  was  infonned,  however, 
that  if  I  proceeded  to  Perpignan,  I  should  find  a 
cross-road,  leading  close  under  the  Pyrenees,  and 
among  the  outposts  of  the  mountains,  to  Tarbes, 
from  which  roads  diverge  in  all  dii'ections  into  the 
different  valleys ;  and  as  the  flats  and  low  hills  of 
the  vaunted  south  of  France  had  so  disappointed 
me,  I  resolved  to  leave  them  behind,  and  seek  the 
Pyrenees,  of  whose  charms  I  felt  no  misgivings. 

Soon  after  leaving  Narbonne,  the  road  apjiroaches 
the  sea  ;  and  here  another  disappointment  awaits 
the  ardent  and  romantic  ti'aveller,  w  ho  has  perhaps 
been  accustomed  to  associate  with  the  Mediter- 
ranean all  that  is  lovely  and  attractive  ;  and  has 
already,  in  his  imagination,  enshrined  this  summer 
sea  as  an  object  almost  of  poetic  devotion.  For  my 
own  part,  my  imaginative  vision  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean had  already  been  proved  to  be  true,  by 
having,  some  years  before,  coasted  its  shores  be- 
tween Nice  and  Genoa.  But  there  may  be  some 
who  look  for  the  first  time  upon  the  Mediteri-anean, 
between  Narbonne  and  Pei*pignan  ;  and,  if  they 
should  never  see  it  again,  the  Mediterranean  will 
be  to  them  no  longer  a  vision  of  poetry  ;  for  nothing 
is  to  be  seen,  but  shallow  lagoons,  sands,  and  shin- 
gle— no  bright  verdure  reflected  m  its  bosom — no 
orange-trees  kissing  its  waves.  But,  upon  the 
veracity  of  a  traveller,  I  declare  to  all  those  unlucky 
tourists,  who  may  never  have  caught  but  one 
glimpse  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  that  one  between 
Narbonne  and  Perpignan,  that  it  is  unfair  to  judge 
of  the  Mediterranean  by  so  ti'ansient  a  glance  ;  and 
that,  if  they  will  but  continue  their  journey  south- 
ward, and  travel  along  its  shores  as  far  as  Alicant 
or  Malaga,  they  will  find  that  poets  have  for  once 
spoken  the  truth  ;  that  its  waves  make  sweet  fel- 
low.ship  with  verdure  and  flowers  ;  and  that  orange- 
trees,  and  palms,  and  acacias,  bend  over  its  waters. 
But,  notwithstanding  this,  the  Mediterranean  is  no 
favourite  of  mine,  beautiful  though  it  be.  A  sea 
without  a  tide  has  only  half  the  ocean  charm  ;  for 
it  wants  variety — which  is,  after  all,  the  chiefest 
charm  of  every  thing. 

The  road  to  Perpignan  is  totally  without  interest. 


.'I 
hi 


It 


! 


It) 


74 


TERPIGNAN. 


[chap.  XXIII. 


There  is  scaroelv  a  tree  or  a  bush  to  be  seen— no 
vilhv.-,  a.Hl  few'  houses.  After  skirtmg  the  sea 
abovrt  three  U>a<,n.eH,  the  road  diverj^es  to  tlie  rig^^t, 
and  ari>roaehcs  rca-piuniau  by  a  lon<;  str.u^h  a. o- 
nue,  through  a  flat  c-uuntry,  thiekly  seattered  Mth 
olives,  willuus,  and  poplai-s  ;  au.l  erossuvj;  tlie  on^ 
hmh'e  over  the  .h-y  bed  of  the  httle  nver  le  ,  1 
euteJed   Perpignau,  and   alighted   at   the  hotel  de 

E^vrv  body  knows  that  Peq^i^^nan  is  the  frontier 
town  of  Frauee,  on  its  south-eastern  ;>«""*l''^^->'- 
the  kev,  as  historians  say,  on  the  side  ot  Spam  .  nut 
it  is  th\'  passage  of  the  l>yrenees,  n..t  th(^  possession 
of  Perpi;;"an,  that  would  open  the  way  into  !•  ranee 
aud  the  great  expense  at  whieh  the  fortitieations  ot 
I'erpi-Mian  have  been  recently  put  in  order,  seems, 
therel7)re,  to  be  a  very  needless  (.xp(>nditiire. 

At  Perpignau,  though  the  remotest  u<.ok  «.t     he 
French  empire,   I  foun.l  that   I   was  still  ni    hat 
country,  to  every  corner  of  which   Pans  gives  law. 
There 'was  still' the  same  French  air  about  every 
thiiK'    I  saw  no  amalgamation  in  character,  usages, 
or  dress,  with  the  dress  or  usages  of  Spain       hven 
the  bonnets  of  the  Perpignau  ladies  might   have 
issued  from  a  ma.i«zin  <1k^  mml^s  m  1  aris.     1  take 
the  inhabitants  of  I'erpignan  to  be  a  contriving 
people  ;  for,  besides  the  narrowness  of  the  streets, 
Ihev  have  hit  upon  another  simple  device  for  ex- 
eluding   altogether   the   mid-day   sun.      tloths   ot 
some  kind  are  suspended,  like  awnings,  across  the 
street,  from  the  upper  windows  ;  so  that,  m  tli(>se 
,,arts  of  the  town  where  this  is  the  ])ractice,  the 
fiercest  noon-da v  sun  may  be  set  at  dehance.      1 
am  surprised  that  so  simple  a  di>vice  as  t  iis  Has 
not  been  adopted  in  other  towns  of  the  south  ;  and 
yet  I  never  remarked  it  elsewhere  than  m  1  er- 


piijnan.  „     ,  ^  ., 

I  applied  to  the  connnandant  for  leave  to  see  the 
citadel,  which  he  politely  granted  ;  and  attended  by 
a  soldier,  I  made  the  torn-  of  it.     It  is  large  enough 
to  contain  four  regiments  ;  but  the  usual  garrison 
is  one  only.     To  me,  the  citadel  was  chieHy  inter- 
esting from  the  view  it  c<.mmands  over  Koussillon, 
and  of  the  Eastern  Pyrenees.     The  country  is  en- 
tirely level  on  every  si<le  of   Pt-rpignan.     On  the 
east,  the  plain  extends  to  the  sea,  which  is  distant 
about  four  leagues,  but  is  scarcely  visible  from  the 
citadel  ;  and,  on  the  south,  it  reaches  to  the  outer 
ri(hn-s  of  the   Pyrenees,  which  are  seen  stretching 
westward  in  a  majestic  line,  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
trace.     Upon  these   outer   aud    lower   ridges,  the 
wines  of  Koussillon  are  cultivated.     The  plain,  at 
U'ast  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Perj.ignan,  is  a  corn 
and  oil  country— almost  the  only  wood,  excepting 
the  olive,  being  willow,  which  is  used  for  tire-wood. 
From  the  citadel  of  Perpignau  no  part  of  Spain  is 
visible.     The  lii<,di(>st  m<tuutain-peak  is  that  ot  the 
Canii.'ou,  which  lies  within  the   French  boundary. 
The  soldier  who  accompanied  me  round  the  citadel, 
comy.lained  bitterly  of  inaction,  and  the  long  con- 
tinuance of  peace.'     1  asked  him,  what  country  he 
and  his  comrades  would  like  to  make  war  upon— 
'I'Espa^ne?     At  the  mention  of  so   unworthy  an 
eneinv'^as  Spain,  he  only  smiled.     1  next  mentione< 
Russia-— he  shruirged  Ids  shoulders,  as  it  he  would 
have  said,  that  tighting  against  frost  and  snow  was 
no  ti-ditiui;  at  all.      I   then  mentioned  England  ;  lie 
said  the  English  and  French  were  best  in  fnend- 
ship  ._'^^y.,/^/.f/^^"  added  he,  signiticantly.    I  knew 
the  force  of  the  word,  and  saw  that  the  idea  was 


not  disagreeable  ;  but  it  is  upon  Prussia  tha  he 
French  desire  to  take  vengeance.  The  mention  ol 
Prussia  calle.l  forth  a  "  «aor.."  He  s;vid  he  wa^ 
ready,  and  all  Frenchmcm  were  ready,  to  march 
against  Prussia.  I  have  never  found  any  variation 
in  this  statement  in  France.  The  Freiu-h  hate  the 
I'russians  even  more  than  they  hate  the  English 
and  1  think  it  may  be  safely  predicted,  that  shoud 
a  Freiuh  army  ever  set  foot  on  Prussian  soil,  it  will 
be  a  war  of  extermination. 

It  is  at  present  the  fashion  to  speak  of  the  strict 
alliance  of  friendship  that  exists  between  I' ranee 
and  En-land  ;  and  to  deprecate  the  notion,  that  any 
animosity  between  the  two  nations  now  remains.  1 
believe  that  national  animosity  has  Umg  ceased,  on 

the  part  of  the  people   of  ^^''^''^^"'^  '  ^;"j/  ^^";.,!;'^^^^ 
suaded,that,  with  the  great  mass  of  tlie  Hench 
people,  kind  feelings  towards   England  will  never 
lake  deep  and  lasting  root.      ^^^''1^'^^^^;;''^- 
stances  may,  for  a  short  season,  call  forth  kmdl) 
s!^ithncnts  in.l  there  may  be  a  sudden  overflow  of 
onthusiasm  and  gratitude  ;  ^^it  these  wdl  subs.de- 
they  will  sink  down  to  their  original  level   dried  up 
by  the  parching  intiueiiccs  of  jealousy  and  old  pre- 

^'Iwignan  is  chietiy  supported  by  its  garrison 
and  by  Uie  transit  tnule  to  Spam,  which,  1   need 
scarcely  say,  is  not  very  extensive.     There  is  one 
:i:::;^K-^f  export,  howev.^,  from  Roussil^m  to  Ujta- 
lonia,  both  extensive  and  lucrative.      II  e   nihab  t- 
ants  of  liarcelona  cannot  do  without  turkejs  ,  and 
as  these  birds  are  scarce  in  Spain,  there  is  a  arge 
export  of  them  from  France.     A  well-sized  tuik(  y 
does  not  cost  more  than  four  francs  at  Perpigmui 
and  at   Barcelona  it  is  sold  for  ten  or  twelve  ;  but 
from  this  protit  two  francs  of  import-duty  upon 
every  turkey  entering  Spam  must  l)e  deducte.l.  All 
the  necessaries  of  life,  and  many  of  its  luxuries,  are 


me  neeef>.-^ai  iv-^  v»i  ...v , ., 

clnnip,  OS  er  the  most  southerly  provinces  ot  t  ra  ce. 

IJeef  and  niutt.m  are  2Jd m  the  markets  of  I  e  - 

pignan,  and  almost  every  thing  else  is  m  the  samt 

ratio  of  cheapness.      Yet,  notwithstanding,  there  is 

little  or  no  ditlereuce  in  the  expense  of  travelling. 

Is  this,  or  is  that  a  cheap  country  to  travel  m  I  is 

a  quest^ion  that  need  never  be  asked  ;  for,  howevei 

much  one  country  may  ditfer  from  another   m  its 

expenses,  to  those  who  reside  in  it,  they  are  nearly 

all  alike  to  the  trav(dler.     I  do  not  speak  of  the 

expense  of  transit,  but  of  the  expense  ol  mns.      It  a 

man  sets  out  to  make  a  tour  ot   Europe,  he  need 

scarcely  make  any  variatmn   m   his  calculation  ot 

expenses  for  the  ditterent  countries  through  which 

he  has  to  pass.  .      .  ,     ,  .      ^ 

I  found  here,  that  the  information  I  had  received 
at  Narbonne,  respecting  a  cross-road  to  (  arca.'^soiic 
through  the  outpnsts  of  the  Pyrenees,  was  cn-rect ; 
and  I  learned,  besid(>s,  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
make  a  circuit  from  Uarcassone  by  1  l>'>;;'"^^^;j;» 
order  to  reach  the  celebrated  valleys  of  the  I  >re- 
ness,  watered  by  the  CJave  and  the  Adour  ;  and  1 
took  advantage  of  the  public  conveyance,  which 
travels  the  road  three  times  a  week. 

The  country  betwc-en  Perpignau  and  Quillan  is 
seareelv  suserptible  of  cultivation,  excepting  in  the 
nei<dibmirhood  of  these  towns.      The  road  winds 


anion 
none 


on-  rocky  detiles,  and  thr..ugli  deep  valleys  ;  but 
none  of  tli.^se  are  remarkable  for  V>eauty      1  he  outer 
ran-'es  of  the    Eastern   Pyrenees  are  but  scantily 
covered  with  verdure  ;  and  in  the  valleys  iv^v  trcvs 
I  are  to  be  seen  excepting  the  olive.    I  noticed  by  the 


CHAP.  XXIV.] 


THOULOUSE. 


75 


way-side — tlie   first  time   I   had  seen  it  growing 
wild — the  aloe  ;  and  lavender,  rosemary,  and  sweet- 
briar  abundantly  perfumed  the  air.     This  road  is 
certainly  better  titted  for  a  foot-passenger  than  for 
a  carriage  :  it  is  not  only  bad,  but  in  many  places 
extremely  dangerous.     At  one  place  it  ascends  by 
the  side  of  a  deep  valley,  with  no  parapet  between 
it  and  a  tremendous  precipice  ;  and  the  ascent  is  so 
steep  and  so  long,  that  six  horses  were   unable  to 
draw  the  carriage  up.     Several  times  the  horses 
backed,  and  brought  those  who  were  within  to  the 
very  verge  of  destruction.     For  my  own  part,  I  was 
on  i'oot.     At  another  time  we  were  in  still  greater 
jeopardy.     A  l)ridge  is  thrown  across  a  ravine  of 
great  dei)th  ;  the  bridge  has  no  parapet,  and  is  only 
wide  enough  for  a  carriage  to  pass  over.     The  de- 
scent to  the  bridge  is  rapid  ;  and  the  ascent,  imrae- 
diatily  upon  crossing  it,  is  so  steep,  as  to  seem,  in 
approaching  it,  almost  a  perpendicular.     The  coach 
went  rapidly  down,  and  crossed  the  bridge  ;  but 
after  the  impetus  liad  carried  the  horses  some  little 
way  up  the  steep,  they  stojiped.     The  coach   went 
back  ;  and  one  half-foot  from  a  right  line  would  have 
thrown  it  down  the  precipice.     Ui)on  the  bridge  the 
horses  bt>gan  to  be  restive  ;  and  here  the  situation 
of  the  inside-passengers  was  suthciently  alarming  ; 
for  the  carriage,  being  close  to  the  edge  of  the  bridge 
on  both  sides,  it  was  impossible  to  step  out.     I  was 
seated  in  the  banquette,  and,  scrambling  down  be- 
tween the   horses,  1    made  my  way  out  of  danger. 
The  passengers  in  the   wtotide  behind  could  also 
leave    their    places  without  difficulty  ;    and,    tlius 
lightened,  a  new  attempt  was  made  to  go  forward, 
and  it  fortunately  succeeded. 

Quillan  is  the  only  village  between  Perpignau 
and  t  arcassone.  It  is  situated  under  a  high  stony 
mountain,  and  beside  a  mountain-stream,  the  banks 
of  w  hich  ai-i-  covered  with  vines,  and  spotted  with 
wood.  The  road  skirts  this  stream  all  the  way  to 
Carcassc^ne  ;  but  before  arriving  there,  we  stopped 
an  hour  at  Lhnoii.r,  which  I  have  already  mentioned, 
when  si)eaking  of  the  wine  manufactory  of  Cette. 
The  wine  of  Limoux  is  called  the  ( 'haiiq>a(jne  du 
Midi,  and  it  well  deserves  the  name.  It  is  quite 
ecpial  to  the  Champagne  blane,  drank  in  the  Cafe  de 
Parh;  and  costs  one  franc  per  bottle,  in  ]»lace  of 
six.  At  Limoux,  we  liave  left  even  the  outer  ridges 
of  the  Pyrenees  ;  and,  approaching  Carcassone,  we 
pass  through  an  open,  better  cultivated,  and  more 
fertile  country. 

Carcassone' has  the  reputation  of  being  a  remark- 
ably pretty  town.  Its  streets  are  straight  and 
wide — too  wide  for  its  latitude— and  adorned  by 
several  handsome  fountains  ;  and  there  is  also  an 
extensive  boulevard  of  lofty  trees,  parallel  with  the 
old  Roman  wall  that  still  surrounds  the  town.  I 
was  amused  at  Carcassone  by  a  novel  demand.  I 
had  drank  so  plentifully  at  Limoux  of  the  Cham- 
{•agne  du  Mi<li,  that  I  was  unable  to  taste  the  sup- 
per provided  by  the  aubergiste.  "  It  is  of  no  im- 
portance," said  he,  "  whether  you  took  supper  or 
not  ;  supper  was  on  the  table,  and  it  was  no  fault  of 
mine  if  you  had  no  appetite,  p<irhleu.^*  But  I  would 
not  pay' for  the  sujiper  I  had  not  eaten  ;  and  the 
aubergiste  swore,  with  many  a  ^acrc,  that  the 
English  were  the  most  unreasonable  people  upon 
earth. 

1  left  Carcassone  early  in  the  morning  for  Thou- 
louse,  but  with  the  intention  of  only  going  as  far  as 
Castelnaudary,  having  sufficient  accpiainUmcc  with 


according  to  the  wants  of  the  estate, 
these,  two  or  three  farm -servants  are 


a  landowner  in  the  vicinity,  to  reckon  upon  a  hos- 
pitable reception.      All   that   part   of   Languedoc 
which  lies  between  Carcassone  and  Thoulouse  is  a 
corn  country,  and  grows  also  a  little  wine.     The 
grain  chiefly  raised  is  wheat  and  Indian  corn  ;  and 
the  crops  of  every  description  are  luxuriant.     The 
rotation  of  crops  in  this  country  is   Indian  corn, 
wheat,  fallow,  and  wheat.     Almost  all  the  land  in 
this  part  of  France  belongs  to  the  person  w  ho  resides 
upon  it.     His  house  is  substantial  and  comfortable, 
with  every  suitable  convenience  for  the  necessities 
of  a  farm.     The  proprietor  farms  his  own  land  ;  he 
has  a  manager,  who  is  {)aid  partly  by  a  fixed  salai-y 
and  partly  by  a  small  proportion  of  the  croi)S,  which 
makes  him  a  participator  in  the  returns  of  his  in- 
dustry and  exertions.     P'ann-servants  in  this  part 
of  the  world  are  very  enviably  situated.    There  are, 
upon  every  property,  one,  two,  or  three  small  sepa 
rate  houses 
In  each  of 

accommodated.  They  have  a  garden,  and  a  bit  of 
land  for  Indian  corn  ;  they  are  suj.plied  by  the 
master  with  as  much  bacon  and  wine  as  they  re- 
quire ;  and  tliey  are  allowed,  besides,  enough  of 
wa-es  for  clothes,  &c.  A  day-labourer  receives 
two  francs  per  day.  Horses  are  not  employed  in 
the  agriculture  of  Languedoc,  but  oxen  solely  ;  and 
these  cost  about  450  francs  a  head.  The  clear  re- 
turns of  corn  land  throughout  this  country  are  not 
above  '^l  per  cent. ;  but  the  best  wine  country  pro- 
duces 5  or  C  per  cent.  The  people  are  well  off,  and 
paui)ers  are  rare  ;  indeed,  I  do  not  recollect  to  have 
seen  one  mhtrable  from  Carcassone  to  Thoulouse. 
The  bread  universally  in  use  among  the  lower 
orders,  and  not  unknown  even  at  the  tables  of  the 
upper  classes,  is  the  bread  of  Indian  com.  It  is 
mixed  with  one-fourth,  or  one-third  part  of  wheat  ; 
and  no  one  need  desire  better  bread  than  that  which 
I  ate  at  the  house  of  the  gentleman  upon  whose 
hospitality  I  had  rightly  counted. 

Towards  Thoulouse,  the  country  increases  in 
richness  and  fertility.  There  is  nothing  of  the 
beautiful  or  the  picturesque  in  it  ;  but  there  is 
every  w  here — what  is  far  better — an  appearance  of 
abundance.  I  arrived  at  Thoulouse  at  sunset,  after 
passing  through  the  most  extensive  suburbs  I  have 
seen  in  any  jn'ovincial  town,  and  found  an  apart- 
ment in 


any  provincial  town, 
tlie  hotel  de  P Europe. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THOULOUSE. 

The  Markets  of  Thoulouse,  and  Market-People— Fruit  in 
Enjiland  and  on  the  Continent— Place  du  Capitale— The 
Floral  Games— The  Dark  Ages— Clemensa  Isaure,  and  her 
jjoetry— Institutions  and  Churches— Thoulouse  as  a  Resi- 
dence— Prices  of  Provisions. 

TiioLLOLSE,  the  capital  of  Languedoc,  is  one  of  the 
most  ancient,  and  certainly  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting cities  of  France.  Some  say  that  Thoulouse 
existed  five  centuries  earlier  than  Rome.  It  is 
certain,  that  in  the  reign  of  Tarquinius  Priscus, 
Thoulouse  sent  out  armies  and  colonies.  In  the 
davs  of  Cujsar,  it  was  well  known  under  the  name 
of'Toloso;  and  Martial,  in  one  of  his  epigrams, 
says, — 

"  Marcus  Palladia?  non  inficienda  Tolosae, 
Gloria,  quam  genuit  pacis  alumna  quies." 


m 

m 


\'i 

I 


|(»9 


h 


III 


7« 


THOULOUSE. 


[chap.  XXIV. 


Ikit  the  annals  of  Thoulonse  are  more  interostinrj 
at  a  later  epoch  ;  for,  at  a  time  when  the  thickest 
<larkness  oversi)rt>a(l  Kuropis  the  revival  of  letters 
had  long  been  preparing'  in  the  song^  of  the  trou- 
badonrs,  which  were  sun<;  at  the  floral  punes.  The 
rec«'nt  and  disastrons  events  of  war  have  also  <;iven 
to  Thoulouse  a  new  interest  ;  and,  indejKiidently  of 
these  exclusive  claims  to  the  notice  of  the  traveller 
w}jiel]  this  city  possesses,  it  is  a  tine,  lari;e,  tiourish- 
inf,'  place,  situated  in  the  midst  of  ahumlance,  con- 
taining many  fine  edifices  and  reniarUahle  objects  ; 
and,  even  if  it  possessed  no  other  distinction,  it 
would  be  entitled  to  bo  separated  from  the  connnon 
catalogue  of  towns,  merely  because  it  is  there  that 
the  watei-s  of  the  Atlantic  and  the  Mediterx-anean 
are  united  ;  for  it  is  at  Thoulouse  that  the  great 
canal  of  Languedoe  is  merged  in  the  Garonne. 

1   would  counsel  every  traveller  who  arrives  in 
Tlioulouse,  to  i)rovide  himsi-lf  with  a  Cicrroiw,  unless 
he  takes  a  pleasure  in  losing  himself  ;  for  I  do  not 
know  any  other  city  whose  localities  are  so  intricate. 
In  whatever  direction  1  wished  to  go  from  the  Ad^V 
//*'  rKnrofu',  1  found  myself  sooner  or  later  in  the 
niarket-i»lace,  called  la  Piio'  <ln  Cointale  .-  and  here 
I  generally  lingered  an  hour  or  two  ;  for  1   do   not 
know  any  inarket-place  in  the  world  so  splendid  as 
this.     T«j  stroll  through  tlu>  market-j»lace  of  Thou- 
louse, about  seven  o'clock  on  a  sunnni-r\s  morning, 
is  a  pleasure  of  no  connnon  kind.     The  display  of 
fruit  and  vegetables  is  beautiful  tc»  behold.     There 
are  millions  of  i>eaches  and  nectarines,  of  a   size 
that  would  strike  an  English  gardener  with  astonish- 
ment.     I   found  several  of  those   which  1  bought 
measure  ten  inches  in  circumference.     Tlu>re  are 
millions  of  plums,  of  every  shape,  si/e,  and  colour 
—  millions  of  pears- milhons  of  every  fruit,  and 
every  vegetable,  found  within  the  temperate  zone. 
P<minu;  d'amour  is  also  brought  in  hnmensc  (pian- 
tities  to  all  the  markets  of  the  southern  cities  ;  for 
no  condiment  enters  more  generally  into  the  ciit/uh'. 
This  useful  and  showy  fruit  was  very  conspicuous 
in  the  market  of  Thoulouse.      1  also  noticed  tjuan- 
tities  of  green  olives,  which  were  brought  to  the 
market  on  the  branches.    Notwithstanding  the  size 
and  beauty  of  the  fruit  found  in  the  more  southern 
countries,  I  do  not  think  it  etiuals,  in   flavour  and 
mellowness,  the   same   fruit  produced  in  a  choice 
garden    in    England.      1    of  coui-se    exclude    those 
fruits  which  cannot  be  raised   in  England  without 
artificial  heat  :    those,  in    the  si»uthern    countries, 
are  incomparably   better   than  they  are    in   more 
northern   latitudes.      The   finest   melon    reared    u) 
England  by  artificial    heat,  is   an   intlitierent   fruit, 
compared  \vith  the  melon  of  (irtiunhi  or  Valencia  ; 
and  the  choicest  hot-house  grape,  though  nuich  ex- 
celling the  grapes  of  Erance,  is  yet  far  inlVrior  to 
the  muscatel  of  Malaga  or  Alicant.    Hut  1  speak  of 
fruits  ripened  l)Oth  in  England  and  on  the  continent 
by  the  sun  ;  and  I  assert,  that  these  are  found  in 
greater  peH'ection  in    England  than   in  any  other 
country.     Tlu'  enormous  peaches  of  Languedoe  are 
neither-  so  mellow  nor  so  high-fiavoured  as  the  best 
English  peach  ;  for,  before  the  inside  of  these  large 
peaches  becomes  thoroughly  ripe,  the  outer  parts 
lose  their  freshness  and  flavour.      1  have  nowhere 
tasted  pears  eiiual  to  the  jargonel,  such  as  I  have 
eaten   it    in    England  ;    the    ribson    pippin    is    not 
i(iualled    in    any    continental  market;  and  as  for 
strawberries,  Ell  back  my  own  little  garden  against 
the  world. 


Besides  the  pleasant  display  of  fruit,  vegetables, 
and  flowers,  in  the  market  of  Thoulouse,  there  are 
manv  agreeal)le  pictures  of  another  kind— livmg 
pictures.  Hundreds  of  market-people  are  busdy 
emplnved,  before  the  bustle  of  the  morning  begins, 
in  forming,  upon  the  lids  of  the  boxes,  the  most  en- 
ticing pyramids  of  their  various  fruits,  arranged 
withlhe'utmost  taste,  according  to  size  and  c(»lour  ; 
othei>.  are  seen  at  their  early  aiul  ^imple  breakfast 
of  peai-s  and  bread,  after  tlie'ir  fruits  have  been  ar- 
ranged ;  others  are  busy  shelling  peas,  or  clipi)mg 
and  laying  out  cab])ages,  or  wii-ing  clean  the  yellow 
or  orange-coated  fxniinu-  <V<tiii'.ur.  But  to  see  all 
this,  you  nnist  be  on  the  road  to  the  VlaC'  <lii  <  'ijd- 
talf  when  the  church  of  St.  Etienne  strikes  six, 
otherwise  the  pyramids  will  be  raised  and  partly 
demolished,  the  breakfast  .)ver,  the  vegetables  ar- 
ranged, and  the  sc(  ne  of  j.reparati(»n  at  an  end. 
Ihit^  mental  as  well  as  bodily  wants  are  provided 
for  in  the  market-place  of  Thoulouse  ;  for  there  are 
numerous  booksellers'  shops  in  little  woodtii  houses, 
covered  with  announcements  of  the  new  publica- 
tions to  be  had  within.  I  noticed  several  transla- 
tions from  English  works  ;  among  othei*s.  Captain 
Medwin's  Conversations  of  Lord  lJyron,Shakspeare, 
(Jibbon,  and  Swift. 

But  the  I'Uu-e  du  Capitale  is  not  remarkable  only 
as   being  the    market-i)laee    of  Tlumlouse  ;   for  it 
takes  its  name  from  the  Caj'if<(l'',  or  liotrl  </»    VU!<, 
which  forms  one  side  of  it,  and  which  is,  upon  many 
accounts,  one  of  the   most   interesting  edifices   m 
Erance.     The  exterior  of  this  building  is  adorned 
by  much  fine  marble  and  sculpture  ;  and  to  view, 
as  it  deserves,  all  that  is  to  be  seen  in  tlu-  interior, 
a  dav  will  scarcely  suilice.     Among  tlu'  halls,  one 
of  the  noblest   is 'that  called  (<i   »S///t-  '/'>'  I'lu.^tres 
T(>u/oimrin!<.     Here  are  placed,  in  niches,  busts  of 
all  who  have  been  born  in  Thoulouse,  and  who  have 
rellected   honour  upon  tin-  place  of  their  nativity. 
But   through  this  hall  we  j)ass  into  one  more  inter- 
esting—the hall  of  the  academy  of  the  floral  games. 
Every  one  has  heard  of  the  Hoial  games  of  Thou- 
louse— the  earliest  institution  in  the  hi>tory  ol   mo- 
dern Europe,  for  the  promotion  of  any  department 
of  lettei-s.   liy  the  registers  of  its  history,  it  is  known 
to  have  existed  long  before  the  year  \'A2'A,  and  was 
therefore  in  its  vigour  at  that  period  which  is  uMially 
denominated  the  dark  ages— a  term  that  ought  to  be 
better  defined.     When  we  think  of  the  dark  ages, 
we  are  apt  to  picture  to  oni-selvesa  time  when  Goth 
and  Vandal  had  trample<l   under   foot  all   that  was 
noble  and   intellectual— a  rayless  season  of  mental 
bondage— a  Uatless  "  desert  of  the  mind,'"  when 
intellect  never  put  forth   one  bud,  or,  if  she  did, 
when  it  was  crushed  by  the  hand  of  the  Ijarbarian, 
or  drooped  because  it  bloomed  alone  ;  and  then  we 
imagine  that,  at  a  period  called  the  revival  of  letters, 
intellectual  light  broke  upon  the  benighted  earth,  as 
the  sun  bursts  from  an  eclii)seupoii  a  shrouded  world. 
There  is  doubtless  something  \  ery  captivating  in  this 
idea  ;  but  it  needs  little  acutiiiess  to  discover  that 
it  is  all  a  delusion,  and  that  such  darkness  and  such 
miraculous  light  had  never  any  existence.      It   is 
true,  indeed,  that  during  those  times,  called  by  us 
the  dark  ages,  intellectual  light  shone  with  an  un- 
certain and  flickering  flame  ;  that  if,  for  a  time, 
under  the  patronage  of  an  Alfred  or  a  Charlemagne, 
learning  appeared  to  have  found  a  sanctuary,  the 
di-ath  ol"  its  patron,  or  the  first  i)olitical  convulsion, 
again  clouded  its  horizon.      It  is  true,  that  learning 


CHAP.  XXIV.] 


THOULOUSE. 


77 


had  then  no  constellation,  but  that  her  lights  shone 
single  ;  and  that  often  one  star  sunk  ere  another 
emerged  I'vom  the  0})posite  hcjrizon  :  and  yet  learn- 
ing, though  in  these  ages  neither  very  commanding 
in  its  nature,  nor  very  widely  difl'used,  was  never 
so  totally  prostrated  as  it  lias  been  customary  to 
believe  ;  and  ti)  the  middle  ages  we  are  indebted 
not  only  for  the  collection,  and  preservation,  and 
muItii>!ication,  of  the  most  valuable  works  of  an- 
tiquity,  ])ut  for  the  germ  of  all  that  romantic  poetry 
of  which  the  nations  of  modern  Europe  can  boast.  1 1 
was  for  the  encouragement  of  this  poetry  that  the 
floral  games  were  instituted.  The  academy  con- 
sisted originally  of  seven  troubadours,  who  took  the 
title  i){M<iiitt  n(ui(ir$  (i>l <]niimh<  r,  [M'liiift  nenrx  du  <ja'i 
saroir)  ;  and  the  institution  was  called  le  (ja'i  t'on- 
sistoire.  Originally,  they  used  to  assemble  and  dis- 
tribute prizes  in  the  open  air  ;  but  at  a  later  period 
the  meetings  were  held  in  the  hall.  It  was  in  the 
fifteenth  century  that  the  flox'al  games  found  a  pa- 
troness in  the  Dona  Clemensa  lsaure,who  i)resented, 
with  her  own  hand,  the  gt)lden  violet  which  was  the 
prize  of  the  successful  poet.  There  is  a  manuscript 
in  existence,  containing  many  of  the  pieces  which 
then  obtained  the  prizis,  and  where,  it  is  .said,  that 
they  were  read  [didts)  before  Clemensa  Isaure. 

The  statue,  in  white  marble,  of  this  patroness  of 
the  floral  games,  which  was  formerly  placetl  upon 
her  tomb  in  the  church  de  la  Daurade,  is  now  })re- 
served  in  the  hall  in  the  Capitale.  lielow  is  a  copy 
of  the  inscription  in  Pronii^d/e,  which  formerly 
adorned  her  se])ulchre.  The  following  is  a  transla- 
tion of  it  : 

"  Clemensa  Isaure,  daughter  of  Louis  Isaure,  of 
the  illustrious  family  of  Isaures,  having  taken  the 
vow  of  chastity, as  the  most  })erfect  state,  and  having 
lived  fifty  years  a  virgin,  established,  for  the  public 
benefit,  markets  for  corn,  flsli,  wine,  and  her])S,  and 
bequeathed  them  to  the  citizens  of  Thoulouse,  on 
condition  that  the  floral  games  should  be  celebrated 
every  year  in  the  ediflce  which  had  been  constructed 
at  her  cxj»ense  ; — that  a  festival  should  there  be 
held,  and  that  they  should  strew  roses  upon  her 
tomb  ;  and  if  thesi'  conditions  should  be  neglected, 
that  the  gift  should  revert  to  the  king  ;  and,  iinally, 
that  a  tomb  should  there  be  erected,  where  she 
might  repo.se  in  peace." 

It  would  appear,  therefore,  that  this  Clemensa 
Isaure,  the  ])atroiu'ss  of  poetry,  ami  dis]»enser  of 
the  golden  violi'ts,  was,  after  all,  but  a  matter-of- 
fact  pers(»n,  who  established  flsh-markets,  as  well 
as  patr(jnized  the  floral  games — not  a  divinity  of 
beauty  and  youth,  whose  smile  of  approbation  was 
rapture  ;  and  whose  lair  hand,  presenting  the  nou- 
relU  I'l/fantini',  the  poet  would  rather  touch  with  his 
lijis,  than  take  from  it  the  richest  prize. 

Clemensa  Isiiure  was  herself  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  minstrels  of  the  age  in  which  she  lived. 
Many  of  her  poetic  eflusiuiis  are  preserved  in  a 
collection  of  these,  written  in  Gothic  characters, 
and  rejtrinted  at  Thoulous(\  I  shall  cite  one  poem, 
in  7V'/r«  //(•<//<-,  with  a  Erench  translation,  given  by 
M.  Jouy  in  his  "  Herniite  en  I'l'oveiice." 

"  Dolsa  sazo,  joentat  de  I'annada, 
Toriiar  fasetz  la  dolse  joe  d'amors, 
Et  per  hondrar  fiseles  trobadors, 
Abetz  de  tlors  la  testa  coronnada. 

De  la  verges  humils,  regina  des  angels, 
Disen  cantan  la  pietat  amorosa, 


Quan  das  sospirs  amars,  anpoissa  dolorosa 
Bic  morir  en  la  crotz  la  gran  Prince  dels  eels. 

Cintat  de  mos  aujols,  6  tan  genta  Tolosa, 
Al  fis  aymans  ufTris  senhal  d'honor ; 
Sios  a  James  digna  de  son  lausor, 
Nobla  coma  totjorn  et  totjorn  poderosa. 

Seen  a  tort,  I'ergulhos  en  el  pensa 
Qu'hondrad  sera  tostemps  dels  aymadors 
Mes  jo  sai  ben  que  lo  joen  trobadors 
Oblidaran  la  fama  de  Clemensa. 

Tal  en  lo  cams  la  rosa  primavera 
Floris  gentils  quan  torna  lo  gay  temps  ; 
Mes  del  bent  de  la  nueg  brancejado  rabens, 
Moric,  e  per  totjorn  s'est'assa  de  la  terra." 

"  Douce  saison,  ieunesse  de  I'annee,  vous  rame- 
nez  les  doux  jeux  de  la  Boesie,  et  })Our  honorer  les 
Troubadoui-s  fideles,  votre  tete  est  couronuee  de 
fleurs. 

"  Do  1 'humble  vierge,  rcine  des  anges,  disons, 
chantons  I'amoureuse  pie'te,  lorsque  poussant  des 
soiij)irs  aniers,  et  dans  les  angoisses  les  plus  dou- 
loureuses,  elle  vit  le  grand  Brince  de  cieux  mourir 
sur  line  croix. 

"  Cite  de  mes  aieux,  6  belle  Toulouse,  offre  le 
signe  du  triomjthe  au  bon  poete  ;  sois  a  jamais 
digne  de  ses  louanges,  ton  jours  grande  et  toujours 
puissante. 

"  Souvent  a  toi*t,  I'orgueilleux  croit  qu'il  sera 
constamment  chante  par  les  Boetes  ;  mais  moi,  je 
sais  bien  que  les  jeunes  troubadours  oublieront  la 
renonimee  de  Clemence. 

"  Telle  en  nos  champs  la  rose  printaniere  fleurit 
et  se  pai-e  d*un  vif  e'clat  au  retour  du  printemi)s  ; 
mais  tourinentee  par  le  vent  de  la  nuit,  elle  tombe, 
elle  meurt,  et  son  souvenir  s'efFace  sur  la  terre." 

Although  these  are  no  longer  the  davs  t»f  the 
floral  games  or  of  chivalry,  there  are  still  in  Thou- 
louse several  societies  which  adhere  to  the  example 
set  in  former  days,  by  distributing  prizes  to  suc- 
cessful candidates.  One  of  these,  UArwUmie  dt,^ 
ISc'uiiCt's,  J iiscripttona,  et  Hell iS- Lett re$,  which  origi- 
nated in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  another, 
called  La  iSociete  de  Medecine^  hold  public  sittings, 
and  crown  successful  competitors.  There  is  also  a 
Society  for  Bainting  and  Scul})ture,  a  Society  of  the 
Eiiie  Arts,  and  a  Society  of  Agriculture  ; — the  last 
of  which  holds  a  public  meeting,  at  which  prizes 
are  awarded. 

While  at  Thoulouse,  I  .strolled  into  several  of 
the  churches ;  and,  although  the  interiors  of 
churches  are  rather  a  hackneyed  subject  of  inter- 
est, I  found  several  of  the  churches  of  Thoulouse 
worthy  of  a  visit.  The  church  of  St.  Saturnin  is 
said  to  be  as  old  as  the  ninth  ceiiturv,  though  some 
})arts  of  it  are  greatly  more  modem,  particularly 
the  choir,  upon  which  I  noticed  a  bas-relief  cari- 
cature of  Calvin,  m  the  form  of  a  sow,  sitting  in  a 
pulpit  i)reaching,  t'aJrlu  le  Pore  pnc/iant,  is  in- 
scribed below.  But  the  great  distinction  of  this 
church  consists  in  the  number  of  relics  which  it 
contains.  These  are  preserved  in  little  chapels  in 
the  vaults  below  ;  and  the  value  of  the  contents  is 
expressed  in  this  modest  inscription  : — 

Non  est  in  toto  sanctior  orbe  locus. 

All  the  usual  i-elios  are  found  in  this  collection, 
such  as  thorns'of  the  crown  of  Christ — bits  of  the 
true  cross — pieces  of  the  Virgin's  petticoats,  which 
must  have  been  sufficiently  ample,  if  we  may  judge 
from  the  thousands  of  morsels  of  them  shown  in 


r. 


78 


TARBES. 


[chap.  XXV. 


every  collection  of  relics  in  ChriBtendom.  Besides 
these,  th<^re  are  logs  and  arms  of  many  saints,  and 
the  entire  bodies  of  no  fewer  than  twenty.  It 
strikes  me,  however,  that  the  bodies  of  some  of 
those  saints  are  to  be  seen  also  in  several  of  the 
monasteries  of  Italy.  Many  honours  have  been 
rendered  to  these  relics.  Calixtus  II.  raised  an 
altar  to  St.  Simon  and  St.  Judo,  and  deposited  their 
relics  in  it.  Clement  VI 1.  accorded  fifty  yours  of 
indulijonce  to  all  who,  after  havinj;  confossi>d  their 
sins,  should  devoutly  visit  the  church  of  St.  Satur- 
nin.  Urban  VIII.  has  gone  farther; — he  has  ex- 
tojidod  to  all  thoso  who  visit  tho  sovcn  altars  in 
this  church,  and  who  there  pray  for  concord  among 
tiie  princes  of  the  earth,  for  the  extirpation  of 
heresies,  and  the  exaltation  of  the  church,  tlie  same 
indulgonces  which  have  been  conferred  ui)on  those 
who  visit  the  seven  altars  in  St.  Peter's  at  Rome. 

From  the  summit  of  the  tower  of  this  church, 
there  is  a  fine  and  extensive  view  over  the  suiTound- 
ing  country.    The  provinces  of  Languedoc  and  Oas- 
cony,  the  windings  of  tho  (laronne,  and  the  distant 
chain  of  the  Pyrenees, forming  its  im[)osing  featurt'S. 
The  only  other  churclus  which  are  worthy  of  a 
visit,  are  the  cathedral  church  of  St.  Etieimo,  and 
the  church  de  la  J><inrn(J<\  upon   whose  principal 
altar  may  be  seen  the  golden  flowers  i)resinted  to 
the  i)oets  at  the  floral  games.     Excepting  the  gal- 
lery of  ])ictures,  in  which  some  productions  of  the 
best   Itiilian  masters  are  found,  I  saw  nothing  els(> 
worthy  of  notice.      In  the  vault  of  the  Cordeliers, 
there  was  foraierly  a  number  of  dead  bodies,  so 
well  preserved  as  almost  to  enmlate  life.     I  men- 
tion this  only,  because,  about  forty  years  ago,  a 
tragical  event  was  connected  with  tliis  vault.     The 
son  and   heir  of  one  of  the  first  families  in  Thou- 
louse   engaged,  for  a   wager,  to   spend   an   hour   at 
midnight   among  the  dead  bodies.     He  went ;  b\it 
not    returning,    liis    companions    sought    him,    and 
found  lum,  in   the   inside  of  the   oiten   door,  dead. 
The  key  of  the  vault  was  found  in  the  door,  and  a 
part  of' his  clothes  entangled  with  it.     He  had  no 
doubt  opened  the  door,  and,  upon  end»>avonring  to 
go  forward,  had  found  himself  held — and  fear  had 
done  the  rest. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Thoulouso  would  be  found 
one  of  the  cheapest  places  of  residence  in  Europe. 
Within  the  city,  every  thing  is  about  one-fourth 
part  dearer  than  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  owing 
to  the  dues  of  entry.  In  the  markets  held  in  the 
neighbouring  villages,  meat  is  sold  at  {id.  and  'Mi\. 
per  lb.;  fowls- are  not  more  than  lOd.  a  jmir  ;  a 
fine  turkey  costs  but  2s.  (Jd.,  or  3s.  ;  eggs,  fruit, 
and  vegetables  are  remarkably  abundantand  cheap  ; 
and  wine  does  not  exceed  DA.  per  bottle.  The 
country  is  thickly  cover<Ml  with  country-houses ; 
and  one  of  these  furnished,  and  suitable  for  a  snuill 
family,  and  with  an  excellent  garden,  may  be  had 
for  400  francs  per  annum  (15/.) 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

JOURNEY    FROM   THOILOUSE — LOUUDES,  AND  ARGELES. 

Country  to  the  South  of  Thoulouse — Audi — Tarhes  and  its 
Inhabitants — The  Plain  at  tlio  Foot  of  the  I'yrenees — 
Lourdes — Tradition — The  Dehle  of  Lourdes,  and  Kntrance 
to  tlie  Mountains— The  Valley  of  ArgeleS— Argeles  and  its 
Inhabitants. 

I  HIRED  a  cabriolet  to  carry  me  to  Tarbes,  and  Kft 
Xlioulouso  soon  after  sunrise.     The  idea  of  a  coun- 


try overflowing  with  milk  and  honey  is  realised  in 
the  neighbourliood  of  Thoulouse.     Nothing  can  be 
more  perfectly  fertile  than  the  country  on  every 
side  of  the  road  leading  southward  from  the  capital 
of  Languedoc.    Corn,  wine,  orchards,  gardens,  and 
country-houses,  occupy  every  inch  of    land  ;  and 
the  appearance  of  the  country-people  bespeaks  a 
healthy  and  ha])i>y  contliti<»n.      Everywhere,  in   the 
fields,  the   country-people  were   busy  cutting,  with 
the  scythe,  the  straw  of  grain  that  had  been  already 
rea])ed.      It  is  the  practice,  throughout  the  south- 
ern pr<»vinc(^s,  to   cut,  along   with  the  grain,  only 
tho  u]>per  half  of  the  straw,  which   is  used  as  food 
for  h*»rses  ;  and  the  inuhr  part,  which  is  coarser, 
is  cut  afterwards  with  a  scythe,  for  the  purposes  to 
which  straw  is  ])ut  in  other  cf>untries.      The  [tecu- 
liar  construc-tion  of  the  farm-houses  in  this  part  of 
France  produces  a  singular  v  ifect.     To  every  one  a 
pigeon-house  is  attached  ;  and  as  these  are  built 
liii;h  and  narrow,  and  with  dome-sliai)ed  roofs,  and 
often   surmounted  by  a  cross,  one  might  imagine 
the  whole  country  to  be  covered  with  churches. 

1   stop|)ed  to  breakfast  at  a  small  town,  whose 
name    1    have  forgotten,  about  four  leagues  from 
Thoulouse.     The   breakfast  set   down   was  so  bad, 
and  the  price  demanded  so   exorbitant,  that  I  re- 
fused to  i)artake  of  it ;  but  walked  into  the  market- 
place, where  1  followed  the  exam])le  of  others,  by 
juirchasing  some  ]iears  and  a  loaf  of  excellent  bread 
for   breakfast.      The   nuirket-iilace   was   half  filled 
with  sheep  exposed  for  sale.      I  incjuired  the  ])rice 
of  a  fat  wether,  and  found  it  to  be  only  six  francs. 
All  the  way  to  Audi,  the  countrv  contimus  charm- 
iu'j;,  and   gradiuilly  improves,  not  m   fertility,  for 
that   is   impossible,  but   in  variety  ;  for  the   great 
])lain  of  Thoulouse  terminates  long  before  reaching 
Audi  ;  and   the   road  passes  through  a  fine  undu- 
latiuLT  country  of  gentle   hill   and   valley,  both  well 
cultivated  and    well    wooded.      The   appearance   of 
Auch   is  particularly  striking,  standing  upon  seve- 
ral elevations,  and  surrounded   by  wooil--not  the 
sickly  olive  of  Provence,  but  forest-trees,  oak,  elm, 
and  ash  ;  and  lu-arly  in  the  centre  of  the  town  there 
is  a  magnificent  promenade,  upon  an  elevated  ter- 
race of  great  exter.t,  finely  shaded,  and  command- 
in"  an  ext(  nsive  view  over  the  siirrouiulinLT  countrv. 
I    passed   more  than  two  hours  here  after  suppi-r, 
until  it  grew  dark,  enjoving  one  of  the  most  balmy 
evenings  that  ever  breathed  from  the  skies  of  Uas- 
cony. 

A  loni:  iournev  to  'J'arl cs  awaited  me  next  dav  ; 
and  1  accordiiiL'lv  left  Auch  before  sunrise.  1  had 
expected,  before  reaching  Auch,  to  have  discovered 
the  chain  of  the  High  or  Central  Pyrenees  ;  but  in 
this  expectation  1  was  dis:ij)]ioiuted.  Numl)ei's  of 
inferior  elevations,  scattered  over  the  j'lain,  inter- 
cept the  view  of  the  I'yrenees,  until  within  less  than 
five  leagues  from  Tarbes.  There,  near  the  village 
of  Rabasteiis,  from  an  elevatiou  over  which  the 
road  j)asses,  the  whoK"  I'ange  bursts  into  view.  But, 
being  at  this  time  mid-day,  when  the  atmosphere 
was  dimmed  by  hot  vaj>(»ur,  the  view  I  obtained 
was  imperfect  ;  and  it  was  not  until  my  arrival  at 
Tarbes,  that  1  was  able  to  gain  a  satisfactory  view 
t)f  tlu'  majestic  barrier  that  shuts  out  Spain  from 
the  rest  of  the  world.  | 

I  have  read  in  some  book,  that  the  most  beautiful   ! 
])art  of  ev»'rv  coimtrv  is,  where  the  mountains  sink 
down  into  the  j>lains  ;    and  of  this  assertion,  the 
situation  of  Tarbes  olfei-s  an  excellent  illustration. 


( 


CHAP.  XXV.] 


TARBES. 


79 


If  I  had  never  gone  farther  into  the  P}Tenees  than 
Tarbes,  I  might  have  said  that  nothing  can  exceed 
the  beauty  of  its  neighbourhood.  Tho  charming 
plain  that  environs  it — yet  not  altogether  a  plain — 
stretches  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  rich  in  every 
production  of  this  southern  latitude,  beatitifully 
divei*sified  with  wood,  and  watered  by  the  mean- 
dcrin^s  of  the  Adour,and  of  several  lesser  streams. 
The  celebrated  valley  of  Bagne'i'es  opens  to  the 
left — that  of  Lourdes  to  the  right ;  while,  to  the 
south,  apparently  at  l)Ut  a  few  leagues  distant,  the 
l*'ir  tlu  Mull  towers  above  the  range  of  mountains 
that  extend  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  as  far  as 
the  eye  can  reach. 

The  town  itself,  anciently  the  capital  of  Bigorre, 
and  well  known  in  the  time  of  Ciesar,  is  one  of 
the  prettiest  towns  of  the  south  of  France  ;  and 
here,  for  the  first  time,  one  perceives  a  slight 
a])i>roximation  to  the  usages  of  that  untrodden 
countrv  that  lies  beyond  the  majestic  barrier.  This 
is  visible  in  the  dress  of  the  women,  who  no  longer 
cover  their  heads  with  bonnets,  hats,  caps,  or 
handk»'rchieis,  ])ut  with  scarlet  scjuai-es  of  woollen 
stufi',  trimmed  with  black,  which  they  throw  over 
the  head  and  shoulder.s,  something  in  the  form  of 
the  Spanish  nuuitilla  ;  but  I  noticed,  that  those  who 
carried  milk  and  butter  to  market,  folded  up  the  | 
ciquilit  (for  such  is  the  name  of  this  article  of 
dress),  and  laying  it  in  a  si^uare  of  many  folds  upon 
the  head,  jilaced  the  can  or  jar  upon  it,  and  thus 
tripped  along. 

It  is  from  Tarbes  that  all  the  roads  into  the 
Pyrenees  diverge.  One  leads  to  Bagneres  de  Lu- 
ciion  ;  another  to  Bagneres  de  Bigorre  ;  a  third 
to  Cauterets  ;  and  a  fourth  to  Lourdes,  Argeles, 
Luz,  St.  Sauvier,  and  (Javarnie.  The  last  road 
leads  through  the  most  central  valleys,  and  mo.st 
into  the  heart  of  the  mountains  ;  and,  judging  by 
my  maps  that  Luz  would  be  the  most  central  pohit 
for  liead-<iuai-ters,  1  resolved  to  follow  this  road  in 
the  first  i)lace.  Here  I  resumed  my  pedestrianism, 
and  left  Tarlns  for  Lourdes  soon  after  sunrise. 

Until  arriving  at  Lourdes,  or  rather  until  we  have 
jia.ssed  Lourdes,  one  cannot  be  said  to  have  entered 
the  i'yrenees.    It  is  an  undulating  plain  that  lies  be- 
tween* Tarbes  and  Lourdes,  know  n  under  the  name 
of  Lauiu-Maunue,  or  Lande  iks  Mauns;  owing,  as 
tradition  say.s,  to  a  bloody  combat  which  took  place 
heri',  in  the  begimiing  of  the  eighteenth  century,  be- 
tween the  Moors  and  tli^e  inhabitants  of  the  country 
—a  tradition   that  is  confirmed  by  the  discovery  of 
tombs  and  of  bones  in  difierent  places  in  the  neigh- 
bourhooil,  and    also   by  the   authentic    records  of 
history.     It  is  known  that,  in  the  year  7-^-,  Abder- 
anian'pa.ssed  the   Pyrenees  with  a  powerful  army. 
The  duke  of  Aciuitaine  was  defeated  by  the  Moors 
on  the  banks  of  the  Dordogne,  and  liourdeaux  w:is 
captured  and   pillaged.     The  invading  army   [)ro- 
ceeded  northward,  everywhere  defeating  their  op- 
ponents, until  Charles  Martel  engaged  the  foe  near 
Tours,  and  gained  a  signal  victory,  in  which  Abder- 
auian  was  killed.     After  this  battle,  the   Moori.sh 
army,  deprived  of  its  head,  suttering  all  the  priva- 
tions which  a  defeated  army  must  always  encounter, 
and  pressed  by  the  enemy,  retreated  towards  the 
P\rene(!s  to  pass  into  Spain  ;  and  it  was  during  the 
Might  of  the   Moors  that  the  comltat  took  place  in 
the  plain  between  Tarbes  and  Lourdes.     After  this 
second  defeat,  the  Moors,  unable  to  cross  the  moun- 
tains, whose  passes  were  all  occupied  by  the  enemy, 


"M 


abjured  Mahomedanism,  and  abode  in  the  moun- 
tains ;  and  this,  in  the  opinion  of  some,  is  the  origin 
of  the  Cagots,  that  unhaitpy  race,  who  were  long 
the  victims  of  unjust  persecution. 

After  the  long  continuation  of  carriage-travelling 
from  Avignon  all  the  way  to  Tarbes— oh,  how  1  en- 
joyed tliis  morning  the  freedom  of  pedestrianism  ! 
it  was  a  glorious  morning  ;  the  country  around  was 
of  suri)assing  beauty  ;  and  the  magnificent  range  of 
the  Pyrenees,  rising  abruptly  from  the  plain,  were 
bathed  in  sunbeams,  which  "gil^^^'J  the  eminences, 
reposed  upon  the  slopes,  and  gleamed  in  among  the 
valleys.     If  this  book  should  chance  to  be  read  by 
any  one  who  knows  the  scenery  of  Scotland,  let  him 
recollect  the  road  from  Stirling  along  the  foot  of  the 
Ochill  Hills,  and  he  will  then  have  a  better  concep- 
tion of  the  country  through  which  I  am  now  con- 
ducting him,  than  could  be  conveyed  by  a  thousand 
minute   descrij)tions.      It  is  true,  his  imagination 
nuist  assist  me  ;  he  must  imagine  the  Ochills  seven 
or  eight  thousand  feet  high,  in  place  of  two  thou- 
sand ;  he  must  substitute  Indian  corn  of  the  most 
luxuriant  growth  for  oats  and  barley  ;  and,  in  place 
of  whin-blossoms  covering  the  knolls  and  banks  by 
the    way-side,  he   must   fancy  these   clothed  with 
vines  ;  he  must  also  add  the  charm  of  a  southern 
sky,  and  the  balminess  of  a  southern  cHme.     With 
these  changes,  the  resemblance  is  striking.    I  recol- 
lect at  tliis  moment,  with  a  vividness  as  if  the  recol- 
lection were  but  of  yesterday,  the  beautiful  line  of 
the  Ochills,  seen  from  the  heights  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Hervieston — their  woods  and  shadows,  and 
Castle  Campbell's  dark  ruin,  and  embowered  Alva. 
And  when  this  image  is  presented  to  me,  I  see  at 
the  same  time  the  range  of  Pyrenees  as  1  travelled 
from  Tarbes  to  Lourdes,  witluhose  differences  only 
which  I  have  pointed  out. 

About  half-way  between  Tarbes  and  Lourdes,  I 
left  the  road  a  litde  distance  to  gain  a  small  village 
called  Lanne,  that  I  ntight  breakfast,  for  there  was 
neither  village  nor  inn  by  the  way-side  ;  and  with 
excellent  milk,  w  hich  I  had  not  tasted  since  leaving 
Switzerland,  and  bread  of  Indian  corn,  I  made  my 
first  meal  on  Pyrenean  fare.  The  approach  to 
Lourdes  is  singularly  striking  ;  and  the  situation  of 
this  town  unites  ail  that  is  beautiful  and  picturesqu(>. 
It  stands  at  the  entrance  of  a  defile,  which  leads 
into  the  centi\'\l  valleys  of  the  Pyrenees.  The  old 
castle  frowns  upon  a  high-wooded  hill  overlooking 
the  town  ;  the  rapid  and  crystal  Gave  sweeps  below 
it.  Through  the  defile  are  seen  the  high  Pyrenees 
towering  into  the  skies  ;  and  the  charming  undu- 
lating plain  I  had  passed  through,  stretches  away 
towards  Tarbes. 

In  })ast  ages,  Lourdes  was  a  place  of  some  im- 
portance. It  was  fortified  by  the  Romans,  in  the 
time  of  Ciesar  ;  and  part  of  the  walls,  as  well  as  two 
of  the  six  towers  which  formerly  existed,  are  yet 
visible,  though  in  ruins.  The  castle  wasalso  a  work 
of  the  Romans,  and  is  still  in  such  preservation  that 
it  is  used  as  a  state-prLson.  It  belonged  to  the  Eng- 
lish after  the  treaty  of  Brittany  ;  and  in  1304, 
made  a  vigorous  and  effectual  resistance  to  the  duke 
of  Anjou,  who  laid  siege  to  it  at  the  head  of  the  clUe 
of  France. 

It  was  a  short  day's  journey  from  Tarbes  to 
Lourdes  :  but  the  country  was  too  exquisitely  beau- 
tiful to  hurry  through  it,  and  I  therefore  delayed 
till  the  following  day  my  journey  to  Argeles.  1 
applied  for  leave  to  visit  the  chateau  ;  and  having 


m 


..M< 


.1 


It 


t' 

V 

II 


80 


LOURDES. 


[chap.  XXV. 


easily  obtained  it,  I  spent  an  hour  or  two  among  tlie 
woods  which  stretch  over  the  lower  half  of  the  hill, 
and  in  delighting  myself  with  the  view  enjoyed  from 
the  summit  ovt>r  tlu^  magnificcMit  landscape  that 
spread  upon  every  side.  The  summit  of  one  of  the 
towers  is  called  Pierre  de  l^AljU',  from  the  follow- 
ing tradition  : — Charlemagne  laid  siege  to  the  castle, 
and,  not  being  able  to  take  it  by  assault,  resolved  to 
force  it  to  a  capitulation  by  starvation,  Jiut  Mirat, 
the  lord  of  the  castle,  chanced  to  l»e  an  especial 
favourite  of  Notre-Danie  du  Puy  (St.  Pe),  and  she 
sent  an  eagle  to  the  summit  of  the  castle,  carrying 
in  its  beak  a  large  tish  alive.  Mirat,  taking  advan- 
tage of  this  miracle,  sent  the  fish  to  Charlemagne, 
as  a  proof  that  the  garrison  was  not  without  food  ; 
and  Charlemagne,  kuowini;  that  a  live  fish  could  not 
be  had  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  perceived  that  it  was 
a  miracle  :  and,  tinding  that  Mirat  was  under  the 
protection  of  the  Lady  of  Tuy,  proposed  less  hard 
conditionsyaud  that,  in  place  of  surrendering  the 
castle  to  him,  it  should  be  surrendered  to  Notre- 
Dame  du  I'uy.  It  is  strange  that  the  Lady  of  St. 
Vdi  should  have  taken  so  great  a  fancy  to  Mirat, 
who  was  not  a  Christian  ;  but  the  tradition  adds, 
that  he  was  afterwards  baptized. 

In  tlie  evening  I  walked  to  the  little  lake  called 
Lnr  (h'  Lonnh'^^  which  lies  about  thre<'-(juarters  (jf 
a  league  from  the  town.  In  size  and  general  ap- 
pearance, and  in  the  scenery  by  which  it  is  sur- 
rounded, it  may  be  aj»tly  compared  with  (Jrasmere. 
I  walked  round  it,  gathering  a  nosegay  of  lavender 
and  thyme,  and  returned  to  the  inn  at  Lourdes  after 
dark,  or  at  least  in  deep  dusk,  to  do  infinite  justice 
to  a  stew  of  pigeons  and  an  omelet,  and  to  sleep 
without  the  pest  of  either  Heas  or  mus(juitos. 

Gray  morning  still  hung  in  the  defiles,  though  the 
mountain  peaks  were  touched  with  the  earliest  sun- 
beams, when  I  entered  the  gorge  that  leads  from 
Lourdes  to  Argeles.  It  is  now  for  the  tii-st  time  that 
the  traveller  is  enclosed  am(»n2  tlu;  Pvrenees  :  the 
plains  are  left  Vjchind,  and  the  beauties  that  lie 
around  and  before  him  are  of  a  wilder,  though  of  a 
no  less  attractive  kind.  There  is  always  a  j»eculiar 
pleasure  in  entering  mountains  that  have  long  been 
seen  at  a  distance  ;  and  I  felt  fully  that  elevation 
of  s])irits  which  the  entrance  into  a  new  country 
generally  pnxluces.  I  had  long  been  accustomed 
to  think  of  the  Pvrenees  as  a  region  where  I  should 
find  that  union  of  the  l>eautiful,  the  pictures<jue,  and 
the  sublime,  which  I  had  looked  for  in  vain  in  every 
other  country  ;  and  I  found  that  I  reasoned  justly, 
in  presuming  that  the  southern  latitude  of  the  Py- 
renees would  create  that  union  in  greater  perfection 
than  it  is  to  be  found  in  Switzerland.  But  I  shall 
afterwards  return  to  this  subject,  when  I  havt>  seen 
more  of  the  Pyrenees,  that  I  may  compare  Pyrenean 
with  Al[)ine  scenery. 

The  defile,  in  leaving  Lourdes,  is  extremely 
narrow,  allowing  scarcely  more  I'ooni  than  suffii-es 
for  the  Gav(S  and  tbe  r<jad  which  is  constructed  bv 
its  side.  On  the  K  ft  the  r«)cks  rise  abruptly  above 
the  river,  their  interetices  filled  with  a  variety  of 
shrubs  ;  but,  on  the  other  side  of  the  (Jave,  oppo- 
site to  the  road,  the  rocks  leave  little  nnv^sses 
covered  with  verdure  and  scattered  with  fruit-trees. 
But  this  defile,  which  we  imagine  is  conducting  us 
into  the  most  savage  scenes,  suddenly  expands  ;  the 
mountains  fall  back  ;  and  the  l^den  of  Argeles, 
for  so  it  nuiy  truly  be  called,  opetis  before  us.  I 
know  of  nothing  in  Switzerland  comparable  with  the 


valley  of  Argeles.  More  sublime  scenes — as  pic- 
turesque scenes — may  be  found  in  many  places  ; 
but  no  scene  where  the  union  of  beauty  and  pic- 
turesijueness  is  so  perfect — no  sj)ot  in  wliich  the 
charm  of  mountain  scenery  is  so  mingled  with  the 
softest  and  loveliest  features  of  fertility.  But  such 
scenes  abound  in  the  Pyrenees  ;  and  I  shall,  l)y-and- 
liv,  conduct  the  readt^r  where  sublimitv,  as  well  as 
the  pictures(iue,  is  united  with  }>erfect  beauty.  The 
valley  of  Argeles  is  about  eight  miles  in  length,  and 
varies  from  one  to  three  miles  in  breadth  :  and  is 
bounded  on  both  sides  bv  loftv  mountains,  far  up 
whose  sloj)es  fertility  dis[)utes  the  dominion  with 
barremiess.  The  valley  is  not  a  level,  but  strewed 
with  iiummenibl(>  eminences,  all  wooded  to  the 
summit,  excepting  where  here  and  there  a  bold  rock 
lifts  itself  pvramidicallv  above  the  trees  ;  and  many 

I   »  ■  '  ► 

of  these  eminenci's  are  crowned  w ith  the  gray  ruins 
of  ancient  castles.  All  the  lower  part  of  the  valley 
is  rich  in  cultivation  ;  charming  meadows  lie  along 
the  banks  of  the  Gave,  which  traverses  it  from  <ine 
end  to  the  other;  luxuriant  crops  of  grain  lie  be- 
tween these  and  the  mountains  ;  walnut-trees,  ash, 
and  fruit-trees,  thickly  fringe  the  banks  of  the  river, 
and  are  scattered  (»ver  tlu>  fields  ;  and,  ])es)des  in- 
numt>ral>le  pretty  houses  embowered  in  wood,  and 
surrounded  l)y  verdure,  no  fewer  than  ten  villages 
are  counted  in  the  short  distance  of  two  leagues. 
It  was  through  this  Kden  that  I  walked  to  Argeles, 
where  I  resolved  to  remain  some  days,  that  I  might 
visit  th(>  enchanting  scenes  and  various  valleys  that 
lie  in  its  neiirhbourhood.  The  auhenie  wjis  not 
tempting  ;  but  tlu'  pt'o[)le  were  civil,  and  the  beds 
were  clean  ;  and,  if  the  ragouts  were  not  prepared 
with  the  (iciuntn  of  L'de,  they  were  good  enough  for 
a  tniveller  who  never  studied  liim. 

Argeles  is  but  a  very  small  town,  containing 
scarci'Iy  a  tliousand  inhabitants.  These,  in  all  the 
towns  of  the  Jl<tut('s-J*ijriiin\<,  are  com})Osed  of  two 
classes — those  who  are  comfortable,  and  those  who 
are  beggars.  There  is  no  class  of  poor  persons  ; 
and  the  reason  of  tjiis  is  easily  assigned.  The  land 
is  fertile,  and  most  of  it  is  the  pro]>erty  of  those  who 
cultivate  it.  Its  produce,  therefore,  joine<l  to  the 
profits  derived  from  the  transit  of  strangers  to  the 
celebrated  baths  in  which  the  Pyrenees  abound, 
enables  all  who  are  moderately  industrious  to  obtain 
an  easy  livelihood.  JUit,  as  1  have  observed  else- 
where, wlien  speaking  of  Switzerland,  wherever 
there  is  an  influx  of  strangei-s,  many  beggars  will 
be  found,  because  casual  bounty  j)roduces  idleness. 
So  it  is  found  in  all  the  villages  that  lie  in  those 
parts  of  the  Pvrenees  through  w  hich  it  is  necessarv 
to  pass,  in  order  to  reach  any  of  the  celebrated 
baths  :  and  the  nearer  to  the  baths,  the  greater  is 
the  number  of  beggars. 

The  same  evening  I  aiTived  at  Argeles  I  climbed 
up  the  Monticul(%  whicli  lies  immediately  behind 
the  town,  that  1  might  look  d(»wn  ujton  the  charm- 
ing scenes  I  had  j)assed  through.  Had  it  been  ten 
times  liigher  than  it  is,  I  shouKl  have  been  well  re- 
paid for  my  labour  ;  the  green  meadows  and  the 
golden  harvests  form(><l  the  most  beautiful  mosiiic. 
From  this  point,  too,  the  chain  of  the  higher  moun- 
tains was  visible,  their  lolty  and  fantastic  peaks 
resting  against  the  sky  ;  and  all  the  windings  of  the 
Gave  might  be  traced  in  its  capricious  course 
through  the  paradise  which  it  waters.  From  this 
point,  also,  no  fewer  than  nine  ruhied  castles  or 
fortresses  are  visible. 


CHAP.  XXVI.] 


LUZ. 


81 


These  ancient  monuments,  which  now  serve  but 
to  beautify  the  landscape,  were  in  former  times 
places  of  strength,  or  signal-towei*s  of  alarm.  These 
peaceable  valleys  were  then  subject  to  the  ravages 
of  the  lawless  people  who  descended  upon  them 
from  Arragon  ;  and  it  is  conjectured,  that  these 
towers  were  used  as  signal-towers,  that  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  valleys  might  be  quickly  assembled 
to  repel  attack — for  to  them  was  intrusted  the  de- 
fence of  the  frontier. 

Fach  of  the  days  which  I  spent  at  Argeles,  I 
dedicated  tt>  a  separate  valley  ;  one  day  exploring 
the  pastoral  beauties  of  the  extrttim  de  Salles;  an- 
other, tracing  up  to  its  origin  the  beautiful  valley 
of  Aucun  ;  but  descriptions  of  these  would  be 
tedious.  One  peculiarity  I  particularly  noticed. 
All  the  mountaineers  in  this  part  of  the  Pyrenees, 
profoundly  venerate  the  Virgin  of  Pouey  la  ilun  ; 
and  in  numy  different  sjiots  in  the  valleys,  1  noticed 
that  their  devotion  luul  raised  altars  to  this  pro- 
tectress of  the  mountaineers.  Her  own  peculiar 
chapel  is  placed  ujton  a  little  platform  at  the  foot 
of  the  Pic  d'Azun  ;  and  there,  at  certain  seasons, 
the  inhaV)itants  of  the  valleys  resort  to  pay  their 
adorations. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

ARGELES  TO  LUZ — AND  ST.  SAUVEUR. 

Route  to  PierrefUte— St.  Savin — St.  Orens— the  Defile  of 
Pierrefitte— The  Cradle  of  bi:z — Matcliless  Sceiieiy — St. 
Sauveui  —  Expenses  and  Comforts — Tlie  Waters  of  St. 
Sauveiir. 

Aftkr  spending  four  delightful  days  at  Argeles, 
and  in  its  neighl)ourhood,  I  left  it  to  walk  to  Luz. 
Between  Argeles  and  Pierrefitte,  the  valley  conti- 
mies  as  fertile  and  as  beautiful  as  l>etween  Argeles 
and  Lounles,  l)ut  it  gradually  contracts,  crowding 
more  beauties  into  a  narrower  compass.  This 
journey  is  full  of  interest  and  beauty.  About  half 
a  league  or  somow  hat  less  from  Argeles,  I  was  at- 
tracted by  the  gfay  walls  of  extensive  ruins  half 
way  up  a  wooded  hill  ;  and  inmiediately  afterwards 
I  reached  a  small  village  called  St.  Savin,  Both 
the  villa'^e  and  the  river  take  their  name  from  a 
saint,  who,  in  the  eleventh  century,  inhabited  a 
hermitage  uiK)n  these  mountains  ;  but  the  ruin  is 
older  than  St.  Savin,  It  was  originally  a  Roman 
fort,  and  was  erected  into  a  convent  of  Benedic- 
tines by  Charlemagne,  On  leaving  St.  Savin,  I 
noticed  several  ruins  upon  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tains on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  I'iver,  aiul  I  nuide 
a  detour  accordingly.  Crossing  some  meadows, 
and  wading  through  the  Gave,  I  reached  Beaucens, 
a  very  small  viila<:e  overlooked  bv  an  ancient  castle  ; 
and  a  little  higher  up  the  mountain,  a  chapel  called 
Bidouret  is  situated,  a  famous  rendezvous  for  the 
devout,  where  three  women,  bound  by  a  voluntary 
vow,  devote  themselves  to  solitude,  and  to  the  care 
of  this  religious  temple.  From  time  immemorial 
the  chapel  has  been  under  the  guardianship  of  three 
women  ;  for  when  one  dies,  a  third  is  immediately 
fiiund  to  complete  the  immber.  1  walked  uj)  to 
the  chapel,  and  conversed  with  the  solitaires,  who 
were  all  three  old.  One  of  them  had  lived  there 
thii-tv-four  years.  Thev  said  thev  were  supremely 
hai>i»v,  for  they  knew  they  were  under  the  protec- 
tion  of  Our  Lady. 


From  Beaucens,  I  walked  up  the  side  of  the 
Gave,  passing  under  the  ruin  of  a  monastery  called 
St.  Orens,  situated  upon  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
and  overhanging  a  deep  wooded  ravine.  This  saint 
was  a  Spaniard  by  birth,  and,  inspired  with  a  love 
of  solitude,  he  retired  at  an  early  age  to  the  Pyre- 
nees, where  he  rivalled  in  his  austerities  the  most 
famous  anchorites  of  his  day.  Revered  for  his 
piety,  he  was  offered  the  archbishopric  of  Audi,  a 
distinction  whicli  he  long  refused  ;  till,  having  stuck 
a  sapling  in  the  earth,  and  prayed  to  God  to  have 
his  will  revealed,  it  immediately  became  covered 
with  leaves.  From  St.  Orens,  1  again  waded 
through  the  Gave  to  regain  the  road  to  Luz,  and 
soon  afterwards  I  reached  Pierrefitte.  Here,  the 
valley  of  Argeles  branches  into  two,  or  rather  ter- 
minates  in  two  ravines  ;  one,  running  up  to  Caute- 
rets,  and  traversed  by  the  Gave  de  Pont  d'Espagne  ; 
the  other  ascending  the  main  stream  of  the  Gave 
par  ejrcellence,  to  Luz  and  Gavarnie.  Beyond  this 
|)oint,  the  character  of  the  scenery  through  which 
we  have  passed,  entirely  changes ;  the  beautiful 
is  lost  in  the  picturesque  and  sublime.  As  I  pur- 
jiosed  passing  the  mountains  from  Luz  to  Caute- 
rets  at  a  future  time,  1  proceeded  u]»  the  ravine 
that  leads  to  Luz, 

I  never  look  upon  any  new  or  peculiar  scene, 
\vithout  endeavouring  to  find  a  resemblance  to  some 
other  better  known  scenes  ;  because  in  writing  a 
record  of  a  journey,  such  references  and  compari- 
sons at  once  place  the  scene  before  the  reader.  It 
answers  all  the  purpose  of  an  engraving.  M.  Ra- 
rnond,  in  his  work,  has  conij)ared  the  defile  leading 
from  Pierrefitte  to  Luz,  to  the  valley  of  the  Reu.ss 
in  Switzerland,  for  a  description  of  which,  1  refer 
the  reader  to  the  first  ])art  of  this  journey.  The 
resemblance  is  considerable  ;  but  the  valley  of  the 
Gave  is  narrower,  wilder,  more  wooded,  and  the 
road  is  carried  at  a  greater  elevation  above  the 
river.  The  gorge  of  the  Eisach,  from  Mount  Bren- 
ner to  Brixen,  in  the  Tyrol,  would  aft'oid  a  more 
perfect  comparison  ;  but  both  in  England  and  Scot- 
land there  are  scenes  that  apjiroach  to  this  valley, 
tliouirh  thev  do  not  rival  it.  if  the  mountains  that 
rise  from  the  valley  of  Matlock  were  eight  or  ten 
times  higher  than  they  are  ;  if  the  river  were  more 
a  succession  of  falls  and  rai>ids  ;  and  if  the  road 
were  carried  sometimes  two  or  three  hundred  feet 
above  the  bed  of  the  river,  and  at  other  times, 
when  obstructed  by  tremendous  precii)ices,  were 
forced  to  cross  the  stream,  the  valley  of  Matlock 
might  be  compared  to  the  valley  of  the  Gave,  In 
Scotland  too,  the  gorge  called  Cartlane  Craigs, 
might  be  said  to  resemble  this  defile,  if  a  road 
were  constructed  above  the  stream  half-way  up  the 
])recii)ices  ;  if  the  banks  above  were  twenty  times 
hi'dier  :  and  if  the  river  were  three  or  four  times 
larger. 

The  weather  was  intensely  hot  as  I  walked  from 
Pierrefitte  to  Luz  ;  but  so  deep  is  the  defile,  tiiat 
the  sun  scarcely  ever  found  its  way  into  it.  This 
road  rivals  in  its  excellence  the  road  now  con- 
structed up  the  bank  of  the  Rtuss  ;  but  in  some 
respects,  the  nature  of  the  valley  of  the  Gave  has 
created  a  necessity  for  more  labour.  For  between 
Pierrefitte  and  Luz,  the  road  crosses  the  river 
seven  times,  by  marble  bridges  of  one  arch,  which 
required  no  other  foundation  than  the  rocks  from 
which  the  arches  spring. 
,       The  defile  of  the  Gave,  such  as  1  have  described 

G 


I 


•t 


H' 


j 


I 


'i 


« 


■I 

'4 


«2 


ST.  SAUVEUR. 


[chap.  XXVI. 


it,  extendi  ahoiit  tlirec  leagues,  and  in  this  distance 
the  rise  is  nearly  a  thousand  feet.  The  defile  then 
ismldeiily  .-xpaii'ls,  and  ushers  th.-  traveller  into 
that  spot  the  nio>t  beautilul  that  1  liave  ever  found, 
either  in  the  Pyrenees  or  in  any  t)ther  country  with 
whose  beauties  I  have  made  myself  acquainted. 
This  spot  eannut  he  called  a  valley;  it  is  a  hollt)VV 
anion<^  the  mountains,  truni  which  thn-e  valleys,  «n- 
ratln-r  detlles,  tlivcr-ct — one  to  Bareges,  one  to 
Gavarnie,  and  the  third  to  Pierrefitte,  which  1  have 
already  travelled,  i  did  not  st(»p  in  tlu-  little  town 
of  Lu/,  hut  went  half  a  mile  farther,  to  the  haths 
of  St.  Sauveur,  wlunv  I  lingered  a  fortnight,  among 
the  most  beautiful,  the  most  romantic,  and  the 
most  subhme  scenes  that  nature  ever  brought  into 
fellowship. 

It  is  at  Luz  that  tlie  union  of  the  beautiful,  the 
picturestiue,  and  the  sublime,  is  complete,     lu  no 
other   part  of  the    Pyrenees,  and  nowhere  else   in 
Euroi)e,  have    1  found  it.     It   was  here,  and  here 
only,  that  my   e.vpectations  of    Pyrenean   scenery 
were  fully   and   delightfully  realised.     1  must  at- 
tempt a  description  of  the  lioUow  of  Luz,  for  there 
is  nothing  in  any  other  ccumtry  to  which  I  can  liken 
it.      Figure   to   yourself  a  ci'adle,  or   hollow,  about 
two    miUs    long,  and  about  one    mile    broad,   the 
sides  of  this  cradle  being  the  slopes  of  mountains, 
which  rise  from  six  to  seven  thousand  feet  above 
its  level.     This  little  hollow,  which  cannot  be  called 
a   jilain,  because  it  contains  within    it   some  little 
eminences,  is  an  enamel  of  the  freshest  and  most 
beautiful   hues  in  nature  ;  the  most  living  green  is 
mingleil   with  the  rich  golden  of  the   ripe  harvest, 
and  the  pale  straw  ot  the  later  grains.     Oak,  ash, 
fir,  and  other  trees,  various  in  their  tints  as  in  their 
names,  are  scattered,  single  or  in  clumi)s,  over  th<' 
little   fields;  aiul   the   two  (Javes,  one  from  Gavar- 
nie,  and  the  other  from  Parcges,  unite  their  streams, 
and  How  in  graceful  curves  through  this  little  Eden. 
But  these  features  of  beauty  and  h-rtility  are  not 
confined  to  the  hollow.    Here  the  charm  of  a  south- 
ern climate  robs  the  mountain-sides  of  their  heath 
and  fern,  and  clothes  them  with  cultivation.     Two 
miles  up  the  mountain-sides,  round  and  round  the 
cradle,  the  yellow  harvest  clie([Uers  the  landscape. 
At  elevations,  which,  in   more  northern   countries, 
would  be  abandoned  to  the  heath  and  the  fir,  waves 
the    golden   grain  ;   and  both   the   hollow   and  the 
slopes  of  the   mountains,  as  far  up  as  cultivation 
extends,   are  scattered   with   houses,  and  cottages, 
and  villages.     All  this  is  beauty — and  of  the  high- 
est order.      1  come  now  to  the  picturescjue.     Upon 
one   side   of  this   valley,  on   an   eminence  entirely 
separate   from   the   mountain,  stands   th(»  town  of 
Lu2 — its   buildings  and  its  church  rise  out  of  the 
wood.     xVnd  upon  another  separate  eminence,  still 
higher,  are  seen  the  extensive  ruins  of  the  castle  of 
Siiltite  Marie.      At  the  southern  side  of  the  cradl(% 
the  defile  of   the  Gavarnie   opens — a   gorge    pre- 
senting every  feature  of  the  pictures(iue  ;  the  sides 
are  precijiitous  rocks,  hanging  thick  with  wood  ;  a 
romantic  bridge  spans  the  stream  ;  and  al)out  four 
hundred  feet  above  the   river,  embosomed  in  oak, 
and  standing  upon  precij)ices,  is  seen  the  irregular 
range  of  buildings    which   constitute   the   baths  of 
St.   Sauveur.      But   the   features   of   sublinuty   are 
still  to  be  added.      These  are  the  lofty  sunuuits  of 
the  highest  of    the    Pyrenees  ;  jagged   rocks   and 
snow-i»eaks,  which,  from  various  s|)ots,  and   parti- 
cular! v  from  tlu 


nuns   of  Sainte   Marie,  are  seen 


rising  behind  the  nearer  mountains,  and  forming  a 
wider  anti  still  more  sublime  amjihitheatre. 

When  I  walked  up  to  St.  Sauveur,  m  searcli  of  ac- 
conunodation,  1  found  this  difficult  to  be  obtained. 
About  200  strangers  were  already  there  f<ir  the  be- 
nefit   of   the  baths  ;  and    all    the    most   agreeable 
lodgings  were  occupied.    The  expense  of  acconnno- 
datTon'^at   St.  Sauveur  differs,  not   according  to  its 
excellence,    but    almost    solely   according    to    its 
situation.      The   place  consists  of  one  very  small 
street  ;  the  front-rooms  look  into  the  .street,  and  the 
back-rooms  over  the  (iave,   and   towards  the  de- 
lightful scenery  I  have  attempted  to  describe  ;  for 
one  side  of  the  street  is  built  upon  the  precipice 
above  the  river.  The  expt-nse  of  those  rooms  which 
are  in  the  back  part  of  the  house,  is  therefore  double 
the  expense  of  those  which  look  towards  the  street. 
I  was  beginning  to  despair  of  finding  a  room  to  my 
mind,  when  a  French  gentlenum,  whet  occupied  an 
apartment  towards  the  river,  })olitely  ottered  to  cede 
his  a[uirtn\ent  :  but  he   was  candid  enough  not  to 
disguise  the  motive  of  his  apparently  civil  ott'er  :  he 
said  he  was  tired  of  his  room,  and  that  it  was  cn- 
nui/fux  to  look  always  at  mountains  and  rivers. 

St.  Sauveur  is  in'sonu-  small  degree  si)oiled  by 
the  common  fault  of  all  watering-{)laces— it  is  a 
little  too  much  onic,  though  certainly  less  so  than 
n;ost  other  watering-places.  There  is,  however, 
some  excuse  for  this,  even  in  a  spot  where  luxture 
needs  so  little  the  assistance  of  art.  Every  one  does 
not  visit  medicinal  baths  with  vigorous  linibs  and 
robust  frames  ;  an<l  some  smooth  and  gently-inclined 
paths  are  therefore  necessary  lor  the  use  of  invalids. 
At  St.  Sauveur,  no  one  in  health  need  complain  of 
the  little  garden  and  shndibery  susp»  iided  over  the 
(Jave,  with  their  zig-zag  walks  and  little  temple, 
because  one  may  cross  them  in  five  minutes,  and 
reach  the  wooden  bridge  over  the  river,  w  hich  leads 
to  wilder  scenes.  When  I  visited  St.  Sauveur,  the 
shrubbery  was  ornamented  by  a  momnnent  erected 
bv  the  duchess  dWngouleme  ;  but  which  has,  no 
doubt,  ere  this  time,  refused  to  testify  to  the  false- 
hood contained  in  the  inscrii>tion  upon  it  :— "  Je 
vols  <iue  c'est  un  bon  pays  sur  lequel  le  roi  peut 
compter." 

How  ditterent  are  the  comforts  of  St.  Sauveur 
from  those  which  are  found  in  an  English  watering- 
])lace  !  Let  all  who  desire  to  revel  anunig  the  channs 
of  nature,  visit  St.  Sauveur  ;  but  let  no  one  who 
values  comfort  expect  to  find  it  there.  I  paid  for 
one  middle-sized  room  six  francs  per  day,  nearly  21. 
per  week,  besides  numerous  extras  ;  a  separate 
sum  for  plate,  another  sum  for  knives  and  forks, 
another  for  linen,  another  for  fire-wood  to  boil  my 
kettle,  and  a  franc  per  day  for  service  ;  amountuig 
in  all  to  little  less  than  :i/.  per  week.  And  yet  1 
had  a  ragged  table-cloth  ;  two  small  tables  of  dif- 
ferent heights  joined  together  to  spi'ead  it  upon  ; 
one  of  my  three  chairs  with  only  three  legs  ;  a  teapot, 
cup,  and  cream-jug,  all  of  a  different  pattern,  and 
the  teapot  without  a  lid  ;  butter  brought  in  a  paj)er; 
and  the  blades  of  the  knivis  falling  from  the  handles 
unless  they  were  held  together.  The  expense  of 
living  is  also  considerable  at  St.  Sauveur,  and  in- 
deed at  all  the  l>aths  of  the  Pyrenees.  Meat  is 
8d.  peril).  ;  a  fowl.  Is.  ;  eggs  two  for  a  i)enny  ; 
wine,  of  the  most  ordinary  kind,  L^  sous  per  bottle  ; 
fruit  and  vegetables  both  dear,  and  all  kinds  of 
grocerii's  double  the  sum  they  cost  in  Fjigland.  The 
usual  mode  of  living  hei'e  is,  to  make  an  agreement 


<  M 


CHAF.  XXVII.] 


THE  PYRENEES. 


83 


with  a  traUeur,  who  sends  out  dinner  to  the  different 
houses — good  or  indifferent,  according  to  the  j)rice 
paid  for  it  ;  but  for  less  than  three  francs  a  toler- 
able dinner  cannot  be  had — and  even  for  this  sum 
it  is  miiH^rre.  But  all  these  n»attei"s  are  unim- 
portant to  those  who  visit  the  baths  of  St.  Sauveur. 
Only  invalids,  who  find  in  the  waters  an  equivalent 
for  everything  ;  or  travellers  like  myself,  who  seek 
the  society  of  nature,  visit  St.  Sauveur.  It  is  at 
B<i{jneres  de  Bhjorre  where  strangers  assemble  for 
the  purpose  of  anmsement. 

The  discovery  of  the  medicinal  watei's  of  St. 
Sauveur  is  of  verv  ancient  date  ;  but  it  is  not  much 
more  than  half  a  century  siiu'e  they  became  a  pub- 
lic resort.  A  certain  al)be  from  the  univei'sity  of 
Pau,  having  sought  at  Bareges  the  cure  of  some 
malaily,  and  finding  the  waters  of  Bareges  too  pow- 
erful, tried  those  of  St.  Sauveur  ;  and,  finding  there 
the  relief  he  coveted,  he  published  a  little  treatise 
upon  the  salubrity  of  the  watei^s  ;  and  so  the  cele- 
brity of  St.  Sauveur  had  its  origin.  The  waters  of 
.*st.  Sauveur  contain  the  same  prin<Mj)les  as  those  of 
I5areges,  only  in  smaller  prt»portions.  These  are 
sulphur,  common  salt,  natron,  calcai'eous  earth,  ar- 
gillaceous earth,  and  an  unctuous  matter  ;  wliich 
latter  princii»le  hinders  the  use  of  the  water  as  an 
internal  ai>plication.  The  temperature  of  the  four 
si)rings  of  .St.  Sauveur  ranges  from  20  to  32  of  lleau- 
nmr.  Besides  those  invalids  who,  from  the  less 
obstinate  nature  of  their  disease,  have  no  occasion 
for  a  stronger  apjilication  than  the  waters  of  St. 
Sauveur  afford,  St.  Sauveur  is  frequented  by  per- 
sons whose  complaints  require  the  more  powerful 
waters  of  Bareges,  but  who  go  first  to  St.  Sauveur 
as  a  preparatory  measure — which  is  considered 
safer,  and  even  more  effectual,  than  at  once  to  apply 
the  strouirer  remedv. 

If  1  were  to  visit  this  part  of  the  Pyrenees  again, 
I  would  reside  at  Luz,  in  place  of  St,  Sauveur,  for 
many  reasons  :  but  the  two  principal  of  these  are, 
that  at  Luz  one  meets  no  invalids  ;  and  that  lodging 
may  be  found  there  at  one-half  the  expense.  St. 
Sauveur  is  perha{>s  more  exfjuisitely  beautiful  ;  but 
the  beauties  of  this  neighbourhood  are  .so  little  .scat- 
tered, that  it  is  almost  a  matter  of  inditterence  from 
what  j)oint  one  starts  in  search  of  them.  There  is 
one  great  convenience — at  least  so  it  might  be 
esteemed  by  many — to  be  had  at  St.  Sauveur  and  at 
Luz — the  most  excellent  little  horses,  pretty,  gentle, 
and  sure-footed,  nmy  be  had  at  the  easy  rate  of 
2s.  Gd.  per  day  ;  or  a  three  hours'  ride  costs  only 
Is.  3d. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  PYRE.NEES. 

Situation  and  Extent  of  the  Pyrenees — HeiKl't  of  the  Sum- 
mits— Mines — Valleys  of  the  Pyrenees,  and  their  Produc- 
tions— Roads — Comparison  between  the  Scenery  of  Swit- 
zerland and  tlie  Pyrenees,  and  Reasons  why  the  Pyrenees 
are  little  visited. 

I  WILL  dedicate  this  chapter  to  a  few  general  state- 
ments respecting  the  Pyrenean  range,  and  to  some 
account  of  its  inhabitants. 

The  Pyrenees  are  situated  between  42  and  44 
degrees  north  latitude.  Their  general  direction 
lies  from  east  south-east  to  west  north-west.  The 
chain  commences  on  its  eastern  flank,  at  a  little 
dibtauce  from  Lap  de  Creuxy   to  the  south  of  I'ort 


Vi'ridren  on  the  Mediterranean,  and  touches  the  At- 
lantic at  Cape  de  Figuera,  near  Fonlarabia,  in  the 
Spanish  province  of  Guipuscoa.  But  although  it  is 
only  the  range  of  mountains  which  sepai'ates  France 
from  Spain  that  has  obtained  the  name  of  Pyrenean, 
the  same  chain  continues  westward,  until  it  sinks 
into  the  ocean  at  Cape  Finisterre,  in  Galicia.  The 
mountains  of  Biscay,  which  separate  that  province 
from  Navarre  and  Old  Castile,  and  the  mountains 
which  divide  the  Asturias  from  Leon,  are  all 
parts  of  the  same  range  that  rises  out  of  the  Me- 
diterranean. The  length  of  the  chain  which  se- 
})arates  France  from  Spain,  is  nearly  270  miles  ; 
and  its  greatest  breadth,  from  Tarbes  to  Balbastro, 
in  Arragon,  is  sixty-nine  miles.  At  both  extremi- 
ties of  the  chain,  the  breadth  becomes  less. 

The  height  of  the  Pvrenean  range  is  as  various  as 
that  of  the  Alpine  chains.  It  is  in  the  centre  of  the 
range  that  the  highest  elevations  are  found — the 
height  gradually  declining  as  it  approaches  either 
sea.  The  names  of  the  departments,  indeed, 
l^artly  point  out  this  ;  for  the  central  part  of 
the  chain  is  called"  High  Pyrenees  ;"  while  the 
extension  of  the  range  east  and  west  is  deno- 
minated "  Low  Pyrenees,"  and  "  Eastern  Py- 
renees." In  each  of  these  lower  ranges,  however, 
there  is  one  commanding  mountain — the  Canigou, 
in  the  Eastern  Pvrenees,  and  the  Pic  du  Midi  du 
Pau,  in  the  Low  Pvrenees.  The  elevation  of  the 
High  Pyrenees  may  be  said  to  range  from  7000  to 
11,000  feet — exceeding,  therefore,  in  altitude,  any 
of  the  Alpine  ranges,  excepting  the  Obcrland  Berno'is, 
and  the  uisulated  summits  of  Mount  Blanc  and 
]\Iount  Rosa.  I  shall  note  down,  in  this  place,  the 
altitude  of  some  of  the  principal  mountains  in  the 
JJautes  Pj^nnteif,  that  the  reader  may  be  able  to 
form  some  idea  of  the  relative  elevation  of  Alpine 
and  Pyrenean  ranges. 

Feet. 
Pic  d'ArriouGrand  ....     10,08G 

Pic  de  Vignemale  ...  .      10,32(> 

Mont  Perdu  10,482 

l^ic  de  Nouvielle  ...  .       9,890 

Pic  du  Midi  de  Bigorre     ....       9,721 

N. — There  are  many  Pics  du  Midi  among  the 
Pyrenees ;  but  the  Pic  du  Midi  de  Bigorre  is 
generally  considered  the  Pic  du  Midi  pur  excel- 
lence— partly  because  it  has  been  more  fre- 
quently measured,  and  partly  because  it  is 
somewhat  higher  than  its  rivals.  I  have  stated 
the  measurement  laid  down  by  M.  H.  Reboul. 
M.  Dangos  and  M.  "N'idal  make  it  somewhat 
higher;  and  M.  Ramond  a  little  lower. 


Feet. 
0,936 
9,990 
9,900 
10,584 
10,922 


Pic  Long  ..... 

Pic  de  Biedous      .... 
I'ic  de  Grabioulles     .... 
Pic  Poseto  .... 

La  Maladetta  (in  Spain)  (accuni/'d)     . 

N. — This  is  the  highest  mountain  in  the  Pyrenees. 

Besides  these  mountains,  there  are  eight  others, 
exceeding  9000  feet.  There  are,  therefore,  in  the 
JIautes  Pyrenees,  one  mountain  w  ithin  a  few  feet  of 
11,000  high,  four  exceeding  10,000,  and  nine  ex- 
ceeding 9000  feet  in  elevation.  Now,  upon  refer- 
ring to  the  topography  of  Switzerland,  it  will  be 
seen,  that  there  is  no  concentration  of  so  many  ele- 
vated mountains.  The  Oberland  Bernois  includes 
six  mountains  exceeding  10,000,  and  four  of  these 
reaching  12,000  feet;  and  the  Pennine   Alps  con- 

G  2 


'.r'l 


.1 


!" 


I 


I 


J!4 


THE  PYRENEES. 


[chap.  XXVII. 


tain  three  niountiiins  exceeding  i:i,<)00  foet  !  but 
there  is  DO  eoneentration  «>f  summits  eqnallinti  in 
ahitude  those  of  the  Ihnilcs  PynnC-es. 

Naturalists  recof^nise,  in  tlie  materials  of  tlie  Py- 
renees, three  kinds  of  rock— granite,  seiiist,   and 
calcareous  stmie.      Iron,  coi)|)er,  zinc,  and  lead,  are 
all  f(»und  in  the  I'yrenees  ;  hut,  as  it  would  appear, 
not  in  sufKeit  lit   ahundance  to  repay  the  labour  of 
workint;  mines,   with  the  exception  of  iron.     We 
learn,   however,   fn.m   history,  that   the    I'yrenees 
have  not   been  always  so  nii,';,^ardly  ;  for  it    is  re- 
c«»rded,  that  the  Pluenieians,  and  after  them  the 
Cartha;,'inians    and   the   Konums,   extracted   great 
riches  from  these  mountains.     The  only  indication 
of  gold    in   the  Pyrenees    is   in   the    sands  of  some 
rivulets  ;  and  silver  is  not  f(»und  excepting  along 
with  lead  or  copjier.     The  veins  of  marble  are  nu- 
merous and  valuable.     One,  a  white  marble,  is  said 
to  e(|ual  the  uiarbles  of  (  arnara  ;  and   for   its   dis- 
covery, a  gold  medal  was  some  years  ago  atljudged 
t(.  M.'du  Mcge,  by  the  Society  for  the  Encourage- 
ment of  National 'industry.       Tlu-   haron  Dietrieh 
lias  enunu-i-ated,  in  that  part  of  the  Pyrenees  lying 
betwet-n    the    sea   and    I'oix,    niiu  ty-eight   mines  of 
copper,   a    hundred  and  eight    mines  of  iron,  and 
ninety-nine  mines  of  lead.      The  extent  of  country 
exairnned  by  the  l)aron  Dietrieh,  does  not  compre- 
hend above  one-fourth  j'art  of  the  Pyrenees. 

1  shall  at  present  (•(•ntine   myselt   to   the  JIautes 
PijrhnuK,  on   many  aeeonnts  the  most  interesting 
part  of  the  ehain,  and  venture  a  few  general  obs«-r- 
vations,  desci-i]»tive  of  their  jirineipal  features.   The 
JIaafi'S    l^iirnuii^  contain   three   chains  of  valleys, 
running  north  and  south,  each  watt  r<(l   hy  a  river 
descending  from   the   mountains  into  the  plains  of 
F' ranee.      These  are,  the  chain  which  is  watered  by 
the    (Jave   de    Pan,   consisting    of    the    valleys   of 
Lourdes,  .Xrgehs,    Lu7.,  and  (iavarnie  ;  tlH>   chain 
watered    by   tin'    Adoui-,   including    the    valleys    of 
C'anipan   and   St.  Mari(>  ;  and  the  chain  watere(l  by 
the    (iaroime,  wliii-h    <lisceiids   from    Pagncres  de 
Louchon  to  St.  (lauih  lis.      Besides   these,  the  river 
Ne$te  flows   north  ami  south,  (h'scending  fnmi  tlie 
Pyrenees  by  Arrean  and  Sarancohn,  until   it  joins 
its  waters  with  thosi>  of  the  (Jaromie  ;  but,  eM-e|)t- 
ing  the  valley  of  Aure,  the  Neste  traverses  ravines 
rather  than  valleys.     These  are  all  the  valleys  con- 
tained within  \\\v  /Ixiitty  I'lirtniiif,  excepting  a  few 
lateral  valleys,  such   as  thos<'  of   Harcges,  Aucun, 
and  Heas  ;  but   these  are  also  ravines,  n(»t  valleys. 
The  whole  of  tlie  intermediate  space  between  these 
valleys    is   mountain,  containing    no  doubt   many 
spots,  wliich,  in  common  parlance,  might    be  called 
mountain- valleys,  but  which  are   only  hollows,   wa- 
teiH'd   perhaps   by  scanty  rivulets,  and   susceptihle 
of  but  very  trifling  cultivation.    The  only  Pyienean 
valleys  in  which    grain   is  the  staple   produce,  are 
those  of  Lourdes,  Argeles,  Luz.  ( "anipaii,  and  Aure. 
In  all  the-  lesstr  a  alleys,  and  even  in  the  narrowest 
defiles,  some   grain   is  reared  ;  but  the    l*yrene«'8 
may  be  called  a  pasture  district,  this  so  greatly  ex- 
ceeds the  produce  of  any  other  description.     There 
are  only  three  roads  that  traverse  tlu-  I'yrenees — 1 
do  not  mean  bridle-roads, but  carriage-roads.  These 
are,  the  road  from   Tarbes  to  Luz,   from  TarV)es   to 
Bagncres,  and  from   St.  (Jaudens  to    Bagncres  de 
Luchon.     All  the  communications  running  east  and 
west  are  only  bridle-roads,  or  foot-paths.      None  of 
the  carriage-roads  leading   into  the    Puvnees   ])ass 
through    the  mountains  into  Spain,  though  pedes- 

.___ 


trians,  lioi-semen,  and  cattle,  may  enter  Arragon  at 

several  [loints. 

If  I  were  asked,  whether  1  preferred  the  scenery 
of  the   Pyrenees  or  of  Switzerland,  1   slutuld  feel 
myself  at  a  loss  for  a  rej>ly  ;  and  yt  t,  altlu»ugh  in 
many  resj)ects  essentially  ditt'creiit,  they  will  (U)ubt- 
less  admit  of  a  comparison.     They  have  each  their 
own  peculiar  charms  ;  and  it  will  depend  upon  tin; 
peculiar  turn  of  the  traveller's  min<l,  to  Which  of 
the    tw(»    he    accords    the    preference.       Scenes    of 
savage  suldimity  are  more  fretjueiitly  to  be  met  in 
Switzerhmd   than   in  tin;  Pyrenees.      In  the   size, 
too,  of    the   rivers   which    traverse  Switzerland,  it 
possesses  a  manifest  superiority  ;  for  the  Adour  or 
the  tJa\e  will   bear   no   conii»aiisoii    with    the    Lim- 
mat,  the    Aar,  or    the    Heuss— still   less  with  the 
Rhine  or  the  Rhom-.     The  more  n(»rthern  latitude 
of   Switzerland    also  adds  to   its   features  of   sub- 
limity ;  for  the  same  elevation   that,  in  the    Pyre- 
nees* is  covert'd  with  coai-se  grass  or  stones,  would, 
in    Switzerland,    be    the    resting-i)lace   of    eternal 
snows.      I  confess,  however,  that  I  have  sometimes 
doubted,  when    standing    in    the  deep   hollows  and 
narrow  ravines  of  the  Pynnees,and  lo<iking  upward 
at    the    .lark    mountain'-toi)s,    whether    thtse    gray 
rocks,  and  dun  and  dusky  heights,  were  not  more 
allied  to  sublimity  than  the  smooth  sparkling  snows 
of  the  .f/Vnr  /<u/v/s   on   the    Mmik.      Darkness    has 
generally  been  considt  red  a  more  natural  origin  of 
the  sublime  than  light  ;  aii<l   may  we  not  therefore 
infer,  that  the  dark  niouiilaiii,  if  of  eijual  elevation 
with   the  snow-clad  mountain,  ought   to  jtrotluce  a 
higher  sense  of  sublimity  '.      It  must  also  he  recol- 
lected, in   considering  the  relative  sublimity  of  the 
Alj)H  and  tlur  Pyren(><'s,  that  the  slight  inferiority, 
in  the  altitude  of  the  summits  of  the   latter  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  is  more  than  compensati-d  by 
the  lower  elevation   of  the   level   from   which   the 
mountain  immediately  springs.    None  of  the  highest 
Swiss  mountains  sju'ing  from  the  lakes,  which  are 
of  comparatixely  low  elevation,  but  from  the  ui»j>er 
valleys  ;  and  these  are  so  elevated,  that  the  real 
altitude  of  the  mount:iins  above  the  level  of  these 
valleys  is  very  different    from    their   height  abov(^ 
the  levi'l  of  the  si-a.      'J'lie  ele\ation  of  the  valley  of 
(irindelwald,  for  example,  is  between  iUMK)  or  4(K»0 
feet,  ami    the   Engadine  is  e\t  n  higher.      But  the 
village  of  Luz  is  considerably  under  *J(M)0  feet  above 
the   le\  el  of  the  sea.      (iri|»,  at  the  foot  of  the    Pic 
du   Midi   d<>    Bigorre,   is  500  feet  lower  ;  and  the 
village  of  (Javarnie,  although  greatly  more  elevated 
than   either  of  these,  is  yet  nearly  10(H)  feet  lower 
than  (irindelwald.      To  the  real  as  well  as  apjiarent 
elevation,  therefore,  of  the  mountains  which   rise 
from  these  spots,  must  be  added  the  difference  be- 
tween the  elevations  from   which  they  spring,  and 
the   elevations    from    which    the    Swiss   mountains 


rise. 


If,  however,  the  palm  in  sublimity  should,  not- 
withsumding,  he  due  to  Switzerland,  the  imjiartial 
adjuster  of  the  claims  of  the  Aljis  and  P\reiiees 
must  call  to  the  aid  of  the  latter,  that  union  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  jdcturesfpie  with  the  sublime, 
which  I  have  already  <xplained  w lien  speaking  of 
Luz,  and  which  is  doubtless  found  in  far  t:reat«'r 
jierlection  in  the  pNrenei's  than  in  Sw  itzifland. 
One  peculiar  feature  in  the  scenery  of  the  Pyrenees 
I  have  not  \et  mentioned — a  feature  that,  in  a 
comparison  of  scenery,  is  of  great  importance. 
Evei\  one  who  has  travelled  thi-ough  Switzerland, 


CHAP.  XXVI 1 1.] 


THE  PYRENEES. 


85 


knows  that  the  wood  which  chiefly  clothes  the 
niountains,  is  pine  an<l  hr  ;  and  that  the  other  forest- 
trees  are  only  found  in  the  lower  valleys,  and  on 
the  hanks  of  the  lakes  and  rivers  ;  but,  in  the  Pyre- 
nees, fir  is  not  the  predominating  wood — it  only 
mingles  with  others.  Tlu'  mountain  sides  are  co- 
vered with  (»ak,  more  than  with  pine  ;  and  this, 
particularly  in  autumn,  when  the  hues  of  approach- 
ing decay  have  touched  the  forests,  gives  a  i)ro- 
mineiit  advantage  to  the  scenery  of  the  Pyrenees. 

But  1  must  not  forget  to  advance,  in  favour  of 
Switz(>rland,  the  importiint  fact,  that  the  Pyrenees 
are  destitute,  or  almost  destitute  of  lakes.  These, 
next  to  its  mountains,  are  the  great  charm  of  Swit- 
zerland, and  must,  1  suspect,  cast  the  balance  in 
favour  of  that  country.  In  truth,  the  traveller, 
who  is  desirous  of  seeing  all  the  various  charms  of 
niountain  scenery,  tiiust  visit  botli  Sw  itzerlaiid  and 
the  i'vreiiees.  lie  must  not  content  himself  with 
believnig,  that,  having  seen  Switzerland,  he  has 
seen  all  that  mountain  scenery  can  offer.  This 
would  be  a  false  belief.  lb'  who  has  traversed  Swit- 
zerland throughout,  has  indeed  become  familiar 
with  scenes  which  cannot  jx-rhaps  be  equalled  in 
any  other  country  in  the  world  ;  and  he  need  not 
travel  in  search  of  hner  scenes  of  the  same  onh'r. 
Hut  scenes  of  a  difl'erent  ord(>r — of  another  cha- 
racter— await  him  in  the  Pyri'iiees  ;  and,  until  he 
has  looked  upon  these,  he  has  not  enjoyed  all  the 
charms  which  mountain  scenery  is  capable  of  dis- 
closing to  the  lover  of  nature. 

lint  however  worthy  of  attracting  the  foot  of  tlic 
traveller  are  the  valleys  of  the  Pyrenees,  these  will 
probably  never  be  the  fretpient  resort  of  tlie  tourist, 
or  divide  with  Switzerland  the  choice  of  the  travel- 
ler ;  because  access  to  tin;  Py nances  is  more  difli- 
cult, — and  because  there  acconimo(hition  for  the 
traveller  is  worse  than  indittVrent.  To  reach  the 
Pvreiiees,  one  must  either  travel  rtve  hundred  miles 
from  Paris,  through  an  uninteresting  country,  or 
arrive  at  Bourdeaiix  by  sea  ;  neither  of  which  places 
could  be  said  to  inter  into  a  journey  of  pleasure  : 
whereas,  in  going  to  Switzerland,  one  has  only  to 
cross  the  Nethtn-lands  to  Coli-gne,  and  step  into  a 
boat.  And  besides,  Switze'rlami  is  the  high  road  to 
Italy.  Ti-avellers  would  go  to  Italy  even  if  there 
were  no  Switzerlaii«l  ;  ami,  therefore,  Switzerland 
receives  the  visits  of  the  Italian  tourist,  as  well  as 
of  those  who  visit  it  solely  on  its  own  account.  But 
the  Pyrenees  cannot  be  "included"  in  a  tour,  or 
taken  on  the  way  to  some  other  place.  The  ti-avellcr 
who  visits  the  Pyrt-nees  must  journey  there  (,ry//-c.--, 
unless  he  jturposes  visiting  S[»ai!i  ;  aiul,  even  in  that 
case,  the  JI<(uf<s  J\i/rnii<'s  lie  more  than  a  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  out  of  his  way,  whether  he  enter 
Sj)ain  by  Peri>igiian  or  by  liayonne. 

As  for  the  comparative  comforts  whit-li  the  tra- 
veller may  expect  in  visiting  Switzi-rland  or  the 
Pyrenees,  the  great  inferiority  of  the  latter,  in  this 
respect,  will  always  prevent  the  ingress  of  strangers. 
Even  if  nothiii''  were  to  be  seen  in  Switzerland,  one 
might  be  recompensed  for  a  journey  tlier*',  by  the 
unapjiroached  excellence  of  the  inns.  Comfort, 
civility, abundance,  cleanliness,  good  Hresif  wanted, 
excellent  beds,  unexcej)tionablo  cookery,  bring  the 
Swiss  inns  as  near  {uriection  as  possible.  Rut  the 
very  reverse  of  all  this  is  found  in  the  Pyrenees. 
With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  hotels  at  Binjncres 
<h'  li'iijorn',  the  whole  of  the  Pyrenees  does  not  con- 
tain one  really  good   hotel  ;  and,  whatever  may  be 


the  attractions  of  a  country,  it  will  never  be  much 
visited  so  lone:  as  the  accommodation  for  travellere 
is  bad.  What  is  it  but  the  wretchedness  of  the 
Spanish  Ventas,  that  has  shut  out  a  knowledge  of 
Spain  from  the  rest  of  Europe  I 

\^\  a  certain  class  of  j)eople,  indeed,  the  Pyrenees 
are  visited — by  invalids,  who  are  unable  to  stir  far 
from  the  spot  where  tlu'y  have  gone  in  search  of 
health  ;  and  Bagneres  de  Rigorre  is  visited  by  that 
class  of  persons  who  make  delicate  health  (not  j>osi- 
tive  disease)  an  excuse  for  seeking  amusement.  Rut 
Bagneres  is  not  in  the  Pyrenees,  or  at  least  it  is 
\x\mu  their  outskirts  ;  and  those  who  reside  at  Rag- 
neres  seldom  make  longer  excursions  than  allow  a 
return  to  the  comfortable  dinners  at  FirserUis. 

With  the  exception  of  those  visiting  the  Pyrenees 
for  the  sake  of  the  baths,  I  met  only  one  English 
traveller.  He  had  come  from  Paris  ;  and  the  mo- 
tive that  influi-need  his  journey  was  singular  enough. 
He  said  he  wished  to  reach  .some  of  the  passes  where 
he  might  have  a  view  into  Spain,  and  walk  a  httle 
way  within  the  boundary,  that  he  might  be  able  to 
say  he  had  been  there.  "  And  why  not  extend  your 
journey  into  the  country  ?"  1  asked.  "  Oh,"  says 
he,  "  nobody  goes  there."  This  reply  was  the  tii-st 
thing  that  led  me  to  entertain  the  project  of  travel- 
Ung  through  Spain — a  project  which,  in  the  following 
year,  I  carried  into  eflect. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THi:    I.MIAIUTANTS    01"    THE    I'VIUCNKKS. 

Manner  of  Life  of  the  Pyrenean  Mountaineer— His  Winter 
and  Suinnier  Habitations — His  Industry — Dress— Hospi- 
tality—Morals — Sliort  buuunary  of  the  History  and  present 
State  of  tlie  Cagots. 

ExiiADiNG  the  hihabitants  of  the  towns,  the  moun- 
taineers of  the  Pyrenees  are  shepherds,  and  at  the 
same  time  jiroprietors  both  of  lantl  and  of  cattle  ;  but 
their  condition  is  far  inferior  to  that  of  their  bro- 
thers of  the  Aljis.  This  is  chiefly  attributable  to 
the  small  suj)ply  of  milk  yielded  by  the  cattle  of  the 
Pyrenees,  in  comparison  with  those  of  the  Alps,  a 
fact  that  must  arise  from  the  less  abundant  and  less 
nutritious  vegetation  of  the  Pyrenees.  It  is  diffi- 
cult, therefore,  for  the  inhabitant  of  these  mountains 
to  improve  his  condition.  His  dairy  is  either  con- 
sumed by  his  own  family,  or  its  juoduce  is  taken  to 
the  nearest  baths,  to  purchase  the  necessaries  of 
life.  He  has  no  superfluous  produce  to  com  ert  into 
cheese,  like  the  Swiss  peasant. 

The  Pyrenean  mountaineer  is  a  patient  and  indus- 
trious m;;n  ;  but  it  is  his  lot  to  maintain  a  constant 
struggle  w  iili  the  btso'in  de  clrre.  During  the  w  intir, 
he  lives  with  his  family  in  the  village  or  hamlet  of 
that  valley  in  which  his  lot  has  been  cast  ;  but, 
when  snows  pass  away  from  the  mountains,  he 
removes  to  a  cabin  in  one  of  tlu-  upper  valleys, 
where  his  cattle  have  been  left  during  the  w  inter, 
under  the  care  of  a  single  herd.  Around  these 
summer-habitations,  he  and  his  family  cultivate  th«> 
ground,  to  insure  against  the  winter  a  provision  both 
for  the  cattle  and  for  themselves.  Warm  nooks  are 
selected,  which  are  cleared,  and  sown  with  rye  or 
other  grain.  A  little  potato-land  is  also  allotted  ; 
but  his  chief  care  is  directed  towards  the  meatlows, 
the  produce  of  which  is  intended  for  the  nourish- 


!  1  %\ 

-4, 


S*^i. 


I 

si* 

4i'  I 


it 


;iv 


14    >. 


M; 


86 


THE  PYRENEES. 


[chap.  XXVIII. 


ment  of  the  cattle  during  winter.  These  summer- 
habitations  aiv  always  selected  in  some  of  those 
upper  valleys,  where  arivukt  may  he  commanded 
for  the  purj)Ose  of  irrigation,  and  where  the  slopes 
lie  conveniently  fur  takint,'  advantai^e  of  it.  Innu- 
merable small  ^^rooves  are  nia'le  in  the  land,  and 
the  water  is  eonv.>yed  at  pleasure  to  one  part  or 
another,  by  merely  turnin;;  the  couree  with  a  tiat 
stone  or  a  slate.  While  the  mountiiineer  and  his 
faniilv  are  thus  einployi(ldurint;thesuninurn\oi!t]iH, 

in  proviilini,'   for   the   necessitiis  of  the  winter,  the 
cattle  are  n(»t  permitted  to  feed  witliin  the  range  of 
the  iiTigated  meadows,  but  are  driven  up  into  the 
highest  parts  of  the   mountains  ;  and  tlie  man  who 
accompanies  them  eonstruets  a  shelter  with  stones 
and  furze.     1  shall  afterwards  have  occasi(»n  to  lead 
the  reader  into  some  of  these  liabitations.      It  must 
be  a  wretched  existenee  that  («f  the  shepherd,  who, 
when  the  winter  a]>proaches,  ami  driv«s  the  family 
into  the  lower  valley,  retires   into  the  cabin  along 
with  his  cattle,  there  to  {>ass  alone  the  dreary  days 
and   nights  of  winter,  surroumled    by  snows  and 
tem}H'Sts.      It  is  thus  the  moimtaineer  of  the  Pyre- 
nees sjx'uds  his  days  amojig  seeiics  in  which  he  feels 
a  mountaineer's  pride  ;  and  t<intri\es,  with  labour, 
to  support  himself  and  his  family  in  independence. 
But  it  sometimes  happens,  that  all  his  inilustry  and 
precautions   are   unahk"   t(»  jtresi  rve   him  from  the 
chanees   to  which    the    climate    of   a   mountainous 
country  expose  his  fortune.      Late  and  deep  snows 
have  often  buried  the  summer-habitations  during 
so  long  a  period,  that  the  stock  of  i>rovision  for  the 
cattle  has  been  exhausted,  and  the  cattle  jjerishing  ; 
the  herd  is  also  necessarily  cut   otf  from   nourish- 
ment.    Another  lesser  calamity  is  of  yearly  n-cur- 
rence.     The  soil  which  is  allotted  to  the  production 
of  grain  is  carried  away  by  the  winter  torrents, 
lea\ing  only  the  bare  rock  beneath  ;  but  the  industry 
and  patii'iit  toil  of  the  mountaineer  sujiply  this  loss. 
He  carries  soil  in  baskets   from   the  lower  \  alley  to 
form  again  his  little  arable  possessi»)n,  and  to  rear 
upon  it  the  rye  or  the  tiax  that  help  to  sup{)ort  his 
family  during  the  winter,  or  to   furnish  them  with 
winter's  employment.      A    Pyvenean    peasant   who 
possesses  titteeii  eows  is  considered  an  opulent  man  ; 
but  few  j)Ossess  so  great  a  number. 

The  whiter-habitation  of  tla'  I'yrenean  consists  of 
only  two  apartments.  The  furniture  is  limited  to 
articles  of  mere  nec^^'ssily  ;  and  in  the  greater  mnn- 
ber  of  cottages,  the  windows  are  without  glass. 
Externally,  these  houses  seem  better  than  they 
really  are.  They  are  generally  roofed  with  slate  ; 
and  this  gives  to  them  an  air  of  respectability  wliieh 
is  rarely  confirmed  by  a  visit  to  the  interior. 

The  inhabitant  of  the  Tyn-nean  valley  is,  in  every 
!  tiling,  more  juimitive  than  the  Aljtine  mountaineer. 
;  In  his  nourishnunt  and  dress,  he  retains  the  pas- 
i  toral  simplicity  ;  and,  1  might  add,  in  his  morals 
i  too.  Bread  ot  rye  (>r  barley,  and  milk,  and  a  sort 
\  of  paste  made  of  Indian  corn,  are  the  hal/itual  diet 
!  of  the  Pyreiiean  jjeasaiit  ;  and  those  who  are  in 
'  comparatively  easy  circumstances,  salt  some  kid's 
i  llesh,  and  scmietimes  a  pig,  for  liigh  days  ami  holi- 
I  davs.  In  com|>arison  with  the  comforts  which  a 
!  })easant  of  ( irindelwaid  or  the  ( Jrisons  draws  around 
'  iiini,  thi>se  of  the  1*\  renean  peasant  seareelv  raise 
him  abo\e  the  ijradc  of  a  needy  man  ;  for  not  only 
are  the  articles  of  his  subsistenc(>  of  the  simpKst 
1  kind,  but  even  in  the  <|uanlity  of  theso  is  he  limited. 
i        In  the   dress  of  the  Tyrenean  peasiint  of  both 


sexes,  the  usages  of  Spain  have  been  adopted.  The 
men  cover  their  heads  with  a  small  bonnet,  and 
their  bodies  with  a  large  cloak,  which  descends  to 
the  very  feet.  The  women  throughout  all  the  Py- 
renean  valleys  ai'c  clothed  in  the  same  way  as  at 
Tarhes  ;  the'y  either  wear  the  capulet,  or  short  hood 
of  scarlet — or  the  cajiucin,  a  cloak  of  black — both 
thrown  over  the  head  and  shoulders  ;  and  most 
commonly  they  have  sandals  uj)on  the  feet,  except- 
ini:  in  the  mountains,  where  the  jxasant  generally 
walks  with  naked  feet.  The  mountaineers  of  the 
Pvrenees  are  a  hands(mu'r  race  than  the  Alpine 
peasantry  ;  but  the  dress  of  the  former  is  less 
adapted  to  display  the  figure. 

The  besetting  sin  of  the  Swiss— greed,  I  have 
never  found  among  the  Pyrenees.  The  inter- 
course of  the  nKumtaineer  with  strangers  has 
hitherto  been  too  limited  to  dull  his  natural  feelings 
of  justice,  kindness,  and  generosity  ;  and  I  have 
generally  found  it  difficult  to  prevail  upon  an  inha- 
bitant of  a  I'yrenean  cabin,  poor  as  he  is,  to  accept 
any  remuneration  for  his  liosjtitalities.  Crime  of 
every  description  is  rare  in  the  Pyrenees  ;  theft  is 
very  unfretiueiit,  and  murder  alti)gether  unknown. 
No  ti-aveller  need  hesitate  to  traverse  every  part  of 
the  French  Pyrenees  alone  and  unarmed. 

In  speaking  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  I'srenees,  I 
mu>-t  not  overl(H)k  that  extraordinary  race,  which 
has  baffled  the  historian  in  his  vain  endeavours  to 
account  for  its  origin,  and  which  has  furnished 
matter  of  interest  both  to  the  novelist  and  the  tra- 
veller. Jt  is  pred)alde,  that  many  readei-s  of  this 
volume  may  never  have  heard  of  the  Cagot.s,  and 
that  othei-s  may  know  only  of  the  existence  of  such 
a  race  ;  and  although,  in  presenting  some  details 
respecting  this  extraordinary  people,  I  di.sclaim  any 
pretension  to  novelty  or  original  elucidation,  yet, 
having  travelled  among  their  valleys,  and  seen  their 
huts  and  themselves,  1  feel  that  it  would  be  an  un- 
pardonable omissinn,  were  I  to  omit  availing  myself 
of  even  the  common  sources  of  inf(»rmation,in  order 
that  I  mav  include,  in  this  volume,  a  short  account 
of  the  (  agots. 

The  Cagots  are  found  in  several  of  the  more 
secluded  valleys  of  the  Pyrenees,  jiarticularly  in 
the  lateral  valleys  that  branch  from  the  valley  of 
Bareges,  Luchon',  and  Aure.  So  sedulously  do  the 
Cagots  keep  aiiart  from  the  rest  of  their  fellow- 
men,  that  one  might  travel  through  the  Pyrenees 
without  seeing  an  individual  of  the  race,  unless 
juiry  were  s[»(cially  directed  towards  them.      It 


CHAP.  XXVIII.] 


THE  PYRENEES. 


87 


UK) 


was  not  until  1  expressed  a  desire  to  the  guide  who 
attended  me  in  my  excursions  from  St.  Sauveur,  to 
see  one  of  the  race  of  ( 'agots,  that  my  curiosity  was 
gnitihed.  This  was  one  of  the  lateral  valleys  that 
runs  to  the  right,  between  P>arcges  and  the  Tour- 
nialet,a  valley  traversed  by  lU)  roatl,and  which  only 
leads  to  the  lac  d'e^caihous.  The  Cagot  is  know  n 
by  his  sallow  and  unhealthy  countenance— his  ex- 
pressit)!!  of  stu]ii(lity — his  want  of  vigour,  and  re- 
laxed appearance — his  imj>erfect  articulation — and, 
in  many  cases,  his  disposition  to  yo'ltrts.  If  we 
were  to  credit  the  assertion  of  the  novelist,  we 
should  reject  <»ne  of  tlu-se  characteristics,  or  at  least 
say,  that  the  stupidity  of  the  ("agot  is  only  apparent. 
It  is  possible,  that  a  knowledge  of  his  degraded 
condition,  and  the  contempt,  if  not  avei-siou,  w  ith 
which  he  is  re<rarded,  as  well  as  the  total  seclusion 
in  whiih  the  lamily  of  the  Cagot  lives,  may  have 
their  efiect  in  impressing  upon  his  countenance  an 


expression  of  humility,  distrust,  and  timidity,  that 
mi'^ht  be  mistaken  for  intellectual  deficiency.  But 
the" observations  of  all  those  who  have  studied  with 
the  greatest  advantages  the  peculiarities  of  this 
race,  concur  in  allotting  to  the  Cagot  an  inferior 
share  of  mental  capacity. 

The  days  of  Cagot  persecution  have  passed  away  ; 
but  tradition  has  preserved  a  recollection  of  the 
degradation  and  sufferings  of  the  race,  and  has 
even,  in  some  small  degree,  handed  down  along 
with  the  history  of  these  persecutions  some  vestiges 
of  the  prejudices  which  gave  rise  to  them.  From  time 
iinniemin'ial,  the  Cagot  families  have  inhabited  the 
most  retired  valleys,  and  the  most  miserable  habi- 
tations. The  race  has  always  been  regarded  as 
infamous,  and  the  individuals  of  it  outcasts  from 
the  familv  of  mankind.  They  were  excluded  from 
all  rights  of  citizens  ;  they  were  not  permitted  to 
have  arms,  or  to  exercise  any  other  trade  than  that 
of  wood-cutters.  And,  in  more  remote  times,  they 
were  obliged  to  bear  upon  their  breasts  a  red  mark, 
the  sign  of  their  degradation.  So  far,  indi'cd,  was 
aversion  towards  this  unfortunate  peo|)le  carried, 
that  thev  entered  the  churches  by  a  separate  door, 
and  occupied  seats  allotted  to  the  rejected  caste. 
The  pei-secutions  have  long  ceased  ;  and  time  and 
its  attendant  iniju'ovements  have  diminished  the 
prejudices,  and  weakened  the  feelings  of  aversion 
with  which  they  were  formerly  regarded.  But  they 
are  still  the  race  of  Cagots— still  a  separate  family 
—still  outcast^s— a  people  who  are  evidently  no 
kindred  of  those  who  live  around  them,  but  the 
remnant  of  a  diffei-ent  and  more  ancient  family. 

It  is  impossible  for  the  traveller,  still  less  the 
})hilosopher,  to  know  of  the  existence  of  this  caste, 
without  endeavouring  to  pierce  the  clouds  that  hang 
over  its  origin,  and  the  causes  of  its  persecution. 
But  it  is  at*^  least  douVttful,  whether  any  of  these 
inquiries  have  thrown  true  light  upon  the  subject, 
llistorv,  indeed,  records  the  peculiar  persecutions 
of  which  they  were  the  subjects  ;  and  proves,  that 
these  i>ersecutions,  pursuing  a  desi)ised  and  hated 
nice,  were  directed  against  the  same  people,  whe- 
ther' found  in  Brittany,  La  Vendee,  Auvergne,  or 
the  Pyrenees.     We  fiiid  the  parliament  of  Rennes 
interfering  in  their  favour,  to  obtain  them  the  right 
of  sepulture.      In  the  eleventh  century,  we  find  the 
Cagots  of  Beam  disposed  of  by  testament  as  slaves. 
The  priests  would  not  admit  them  to  confession  ; 
and,  by  an  ancient  act  of  Beam,  it  was  resolved 
that  the  testimony  of  seven  of  them  should  be  equi- 
valent to  the  evidence  of  one  free  citizen  ;  and  even 
so  late  as  the  fifteenth  century,  they  were  forbidden 
to  walk  the  streets  barefooted,  in  case  of  infection 
being  communicated  to  the  stones  ;  and  upon  their 
clothes  was  impressed  the  foot  of  a  goose.     Yet  all 
these  marks  of  hatred  are  unaccounted  for.    No  re- 
cord has  descended  to  us,  by  which  the  cause  of 
this  persecution  may  be  explained  ;  and  we  are  left 
to  guess  at  the  origin  of  that  reprobation  which  has 
followed  this  rejected  people  from  the  earliest  times, 
and  in  whatever  country  they  have  been  found.— 
M.  Ramond,  in  his  disquisition  upon  this  subject, 
says,  "  The  Cagot^s  of  all   Fnince  have  a  common 
origin.     The  same  event  has  confined  them  all  in 
the  most  remote  and  desert  spots  ;  and,  whatever 
this  event  mav  be,  it  must  be  such  as  will  account 
for  every  thing— it  must  be  great  and  general- 
must  ha've  imj)ressed  at  once  upon  the  whole  of 
Fnince  the  same  sentiments  of  hatred— have  marked 


its  victims  with  the  seal  of  the  same  reprobation — 
and  have  disgraced  the  race,  and  all  its  subdivisions, 
with  the  opprobrium  of  a  name  which  every  wliere 
awakened  the  same  ideas  of  horror  and  contera;)t." 
This  is  just  reasoning  ;  but  we  are  as  far  as  ever 
from  the  event  which  has  fixed  hatred  and  oppro- 
brium upon  the  dispersed  race  of  Cagots.     Some 
have  held,  that  they  are  the  descendants  of  lepers, 
and,  as  such,  exiled  from  the  society  of  others  ;  but 
to  this,  M.  Ramond  replies,  that  although  lepers 
have  been  exiled  or  confined,  there  is  no  record  of 
their  having  ever  been  sold  or  disposed  of  by  testa- 
ment.    Others  have  contended,  that  the  Cagots  are 
the  descendants  of  the  ancient  Gauls,  brought  into 
a  state  of  slavery  by  the  peoi)le  who  drove  out  the 
Romans  ;  but  to  this  hypothesis,  also,  M.  Ramond 
answers  that,  under  the  dominion  of  the  Goths,  the 
Gaul  and  the  Roman  were  never  reduced  to  a  state 
of  slavery  ;  and  he  rightly  adds,  that  the  tyranny 
merely  of  a  con([ueror  enslaving  the  vanquished, 
would  not  account  for  tlie  origin  of  the  Cagot  ;  be- 
cause the  feeling  with  which  the  Cagot  has  been 
regarded,  has  not  been  merely  that  of  contempt,  but 
of  aversion,  and  even  hori'or.     But  the  explanation 
attempted  by  >L  Ramcnid  seems  to  me  to  be  alike 
inetticient  to  explain  the  origin  of  this  hatred  and 
persecution.     He  says,  "  Such  victory  as  may  have 
terminated  the  conflict  of  two  nations  equally  fero- 
cious and  inflamed  against  each  other  by  a  train  of 
rivalry — the  invasion  of  one  barbarian  puni-shed  by 
another  barbarian— the  reaction  of  the  oppressed 
against  the  oi>prcssor— at  last  completely  disarmed 
— bloody  combats — disastrous  defeats — such  only 
could  have  been  the  sources  of  the  hatred  and  fury 
which  could  have  given  rise  to  miseries  Hke  those 
which  we  behold."    But  it  appears  to  me,  that  such 
events  as  M.  Ramond  snppo.ses  would  lead  only  to 
oppression,  and  perhaps  slavery,  but  not  to  aversion 
or  horror  ;  and  that  even  the  deadliest  feelings  of 
hatred,  engendered  from  such  causes,  would  not  have 
out-lived  the  generation  which  first  imbibed  them. 
But  even  the  ex]>lanation  of  M.  Ramond,  if  satis- 
factory, would  still  leave  the  orighi  of  Cagots  and 
Cagot 'persecution  as  dark  as  ever  ;  for,  among  the 
numerous  hordes  of  barbarians  who   pushed  one 
another  from  their  c(mquests,  and  among  the  endless 
and   confused   strife    of   battles    which    destroyed, 
mingled,  and  separated  the  difterent  races,  how  can 
we  determine,  whether  Alans,  or  Suevi,  or  Vandals, 
or  Huns,  or  Goths,  or  Francs,  or  Mooi-s,  or  Saracens, 
were  that  peculiar  race,  whose  remnant  has  de- 
scended to  these  days  with  the  mark  of  persecution 
and  hatred  stamped  upon  it  ? 

It  would  prove  to  most  readers  an  uninteresting 
detail,  were  1  to  go  over  the  arguments  of  M.  de 
Gebelin,  who  contends  that  the  Cagots  are  the  re- 
mains of  the  Alans  ;  or  of  M.  Ramond,  who  believes 
them  to  be  a  remnant  of  the  Goths.  Nothing  ap- 
l)roaching  to  certainty,  scarcely  even  bordering  upon 
probabilitv,  appeai-s  in  the  reasoning  of  either.  The 
Cagots  may  have  been  Alans,  or  they  may  have 
been  Goths' ;  but  there  seems  to  be  nearly  the  same 
reason  for  believhig  them  the  remnant  of  one  as  of 
the  other  people.  If  this  miserable  and  proscribed 
race  should,  indeed,  be  all  that  remains  of  the 
Gothic  conciuerors  of  half  tlie  world,  what  a  lesson 
for  pride  is  there  ! 

I  cannot  conclude  this  hasty  sketch  better  than 
in  the  words  of  M.  Ramond,  who,  whatever  his 
l)hilosophical  i>owers  may  be,  is  evidently  a  kind- 


i&l 


J#4j 


1 


Um% 


I* 


Ml' 


W 


m) 


BAREGES. 


fCHAP.  XXIX. 


hearted  and  observing  man,  and  who  possessed  the 
best  of  all  oj)portunitHS  for  judi^inu:  of  the  people 
whifh  were  tlu;  object  t)f  his  imiuiry. 

"  I  have  seen,"  says  he,  "  some  families  of  these 
unfortunate  creatures.  They  are  gradually  ap- 
])roat*hiiig  the  villa^'cs  fi-oni  wliieh  prejudice  has 
banish.  (Uheni.  The  side-d..ors  by  which  they  were 
fonnerlv  obliged  to  enter  the  churches  are  useless 
(M.  llamond"might  have  said  shut  up,  for  so  they 
are  in  general),  and  some  degree  of  pity  mingles, 
at  lenu'tli,  with  the  conten»pt  and  aversion  which 
they  fonnerlv  inspired  ;  yet  1  have  been  in  some  of 
their  retreats,  where  they  still  fear  the  insults  of 
prejudice,  and  await  the  visits  of  the  compassionate. 
I  liave  found  among  them  the  poorest  beings  per- 
hajts  that  exist  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  I  have 
met  with  brothers,  who  l(»ved  i-ach  other  with  that 
tenderness  which  is  the  most  }>ressing  want  of 
isolated  men.  1  have  seen  among  them  women, 
whose  ati'ection  had  a  soi.iewhat  in  it  (»f  that  sub- 
mission and  devotion  which  are  inspired  by  feeble- 
ness and  misfortune.  And  never,  in  this  half-anni- 
hilation of  those  beings  of  my  sjiecies,  could  1  re- 
cognise, without  shuddering,  the  extent  of  the  power 
which  we  may  exercise  over  the  existence  of  our 
f^.ll^)W— the  narrow  circle  of  knowledge  and  of  en- 
joyment within  uliich  we  may  confine  him  — the 
smallness  of  the  sp.here  to  which  we  may  reduce 
his  usefulness.'' 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


BARE<;KS — TIIK  VALLEYS  OF   IIASTAN  AND  CAMPAN. 

The  Valley  of  Harojjcs— Devastations  of  the  Gave  dc  IJastaii 
— Baref^es,  its  liihahitaiUs  ami  its  Waters— Journey  to  the 
Lake  d'Oncet- Old  Usages— Tiie  Milk  of  the  Pyrenees- 
Mountain  Scenes— The  Lake  d'Oncet— Mountaineers— 
Dillicult  Path— The  Tourinakt— Character  of  the  Valley 
of  Campan. 

Aftkr  having  been  a  few  days  at  St.  Sanveur,  I 
left  it  upon  a  visit  to  Ba regies, 'the  Fkdu  J/ t^i,  and 
JHiKineres.  My  intention  was  to  breakfast  at  Pareges, 
to  "ascend  the  l'i<-  du  Midi,  and  descend  on  the 
other  side  to  Bagneres  bt-fore  night.  The  guide 
assured  me  this  was  possilde  ;  but,  as  the  distance 
and  fatigue  of  such  a  journey  would  necessarily  be 
great,  I  t<tok  his  adviet>  in  hiring  a  horse,  to  carry 
me  as  far  as  the  nature  of  the  road  would  permit. 
1  left  St.  Sauveur  at  five  o'clock  on  a  still,  gloomy 
morning,  which  tome  appeand  rather  threatening; 
but  the  guide  assiu-ed  me  the  day  would  turn  out 
fine  ;  and  I,  of  course,  trusted  to  his  su[)erior  know- 
ledge in  such  matters.  Passiug  through  Luz,  and 
round  the  monticule  upon  which  stands  the  castle 
of  St.  Marie,  1  entered  the  valley  of  Harcg*'S,  or,  as 
it  is  more  generally  called,  of  Bastan.  The  first 
part  of  the  road  is  agreeably  shaded  by  fine  linden- 
trees,  and  sloping  meadows  rise  from  the  valley  ; 
but  about  a  mile  from  \aia  all  trace  of  beauty  and 
verdure  is  lost  ;  an<l  we  perctive,  from  the  signs  of 
desolation  every  where  around,  that  we  are  in  one 
of  those  valleys' where  the  inhalutants  vainly  strive 
against  the  elements,  and  where  it  may  be  said  of 
them,  as  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Wilaii^,  "  their 
lives  are  in  their  lian<ls."'  There  is  not,  perhaps 
in  Europe,  a  more  devastating  torrent  than  the 
(iave  of  Bastan.  Its  ravages  are  every  year  at- 
tended by  the   most  frightful   ettects  ;  and  all  the 


barriers  and  bulwarks  which  fear  and  industry  have 
contrived,  have  proved  ineffectual  against  its  in- 
roads. The  road,  which  is  every  spring  constructed 
between  Lu/  and  Bareges,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
baths,  is  every  winter  destroyed.  The  road  and  its 
bulwarks  are  alike  hurried  down  the  impetuous  tor- 
rent ;  and  if  the  fall  of  an  avalanche  chokes  up  the 
bed  of  the  river,  the  most  frightful  loss  of  life  and 
propertv  is  the  conse<juence.  It  sometimes  happens 
even  that  a  sunimer-storm  in  the  mountains  jtro- 
duces  almost  the  effect  of  a  winter-storm.  Such 
had  taken  place  a  few  weeks  before  I  visited  Ba- 
reges ;  and,  in  several  places,  more  than  half  the 
breadth  of  the  roail  had  been  swept  into  the  bed  of 
the  torrent,  and  labourers  were  busily  employed  in 
reconstructing  it. 

But  notwithstanding  the  gloomy  and  desolate  cha- 
racter of  the  vall<  N ,  it  was  a  lively  scene  as  1  passed 
Up  towanis  Bareges  ;  for  the  road  was  thronged 
with  country-people  going  and  coming  from  market 
— some  from  the  lower  valleys,  carrying  fruit  and 
vegetables  to  the  baths  of  Bareges — others  from  the 
mountains,  carrying  thither  milk  and  butter,  the 
produce  t)f  their  dairy.  In  the  neighbourhood  of 
liareges,  nothing  is  pro<hiced  from  the  soil.  The 
devastiiting  Gave  de  liastaii,  and  the  mountain- 
rivulets  that  feed  it,  leave  nothing  but  the  houses  ; 
and  even  these  are  often  in  datiger. 

Bareges  lies  about  two  leagues  from  Luz.  On  the 
spot  where  it  is  built,  the  valley  is  so  narrow,  as  only 
to  leave  room,  and  scant  room,  for  the  street,  one 
side  of  which  is  thriateiied  l)y  the  Gave,  and  the 
other  by  the  mountains  that  hang  over  it.  1 
readied  Bareges  to  an  early  breakfast,  and  was 
L'lad  to  take  refuire  in  one  of  the  hotels  from  the 
unpleasant  sight  which  the  street  of  Bareges  pre- 
sented, thronged  as  it  was  with  invalids  and 
cripples. 

Tlie  Ijatlis  of  Bareges  are  the  most  celebrated  in 
Europe  for  the  cure  of  rheinnatism,  scrofula,  gout, 
and,  aliove  all,  the  effects  of  wounds.  It  is  in  con- 
sequence of  this  latter  property  that  liareges  is  so 
much  fre(iuented  bv  military.  To  these  the  batlis 
are  administered  gratis,  and  not  fewer  than  800 
tuirdatrcs  are  doniicileil  at  Baregt^s  every  summer. 
The  virtues  of  the  medicinal  waters  of  Bareges  had 
not  risen  into  celebrity  jirevious  to  the  reign  of 
Louis  XIV.,  when  Madanu'  d<'  .Nhiinteiion  visited 
them  along  with  the  One  </<  Maine,  in  \T.io,  the 
attention  of  the  French  govermnent  was  directed 
towards  them  ;  and  during  the  ensuing  ten  years, 
the  baths  and  all  their  conveniences  were'  con- 
structed. The  bath  allotteil  to  the  poor,  is  distinct 
from  the  other  baths  ;  it  is  a  subterranean  pond, 
the  roof  of  which  serves  for  a  pnmjenade.  The 
medicinal  springs  of  Bareges  are  insuffi«-ient  for  the 
demands  tipon  them  ;  ami,  therefore,  in  the  di>tribu- 
Uou  of  the  watt  rs,  which  are  all  under  the  inspection 
of  government  officers,  the  utmost  regularity  is 
practised,  and  the  strictest  justice  dealt  out. 

Bare<»-es  is  onlv  inhabited  during  the  summer 
months,  or  the  season  of  the  waters,  as  it  is  called. 
This  season  commences  in  the  end  of  May,  and  ends 
in  the  beginning  of  October.  July  and  August  are 
the  months  in  which  there  is  the  greatest  concourse 
of  strangers  ;  and  there  are  then  not  fewer  in  ge- 
neral than  HOO  persons,  exclusive  of  those  who  are 
in  the  military  hospital.  During  the  winter,  a  few 
keepers  are  appointed  by  governmiiit  to  reside  in 
the  place,  in  order  to  prevent  the  occupation  of  the 


CHAP.  XXIX.] 


VALLEY  OF  BASTAN. 


89 


J 


houses  by  the  mountaineers.  "But  it  not  unfre- 
quently  hapi)ens,  that  when  the  torrent  or^  ava- 
lanclie  has  made  a  breach  in  a  habitation,  it  be- 
comes the  domicile  of  a  bear  or  a  wolf.  Some  parts 
of  the  street  are  every  winter  destroyed,  particu- 
larly the  house  of  chief  resort,  the  Oife  an  Vamlia/l, 
whi'ch  is  exposed  to  the  torrent,  and  is  every  spring 

rebuilt. 

The  natural  temperature  of  the  waters  of 
Bareges  ivaches  forty  of  Reaumur,  and  the  dif- 
ferent baths  are  tempered  at  pleasure.  The  water 
is  remarkal)ly  limpid,  and  both  smells  and  tastes 
disagreeablv. 

In  the  yJar  1702,  the  whole  of  the  Bareges  was 
menaced  with  destruction.  Tin?  Lake  d'Oncet, 
situated  between  GOOO  and  7000  feet  high,  })elow 
the  higliest  summit  of  the  Pic  du  Midi,  overfiowed 
its  limits,  and  ])ourin<i  with  irresistible  force  into  the 
bed  of  the  (iave  de  Bastan,  carried  desolation 
before  it.  The  catastroi)he  took  place  on  the  night 
of  the  4tli  of  June.  Seventeen  liouses  were  swept 
away,  which  then  formed  the  greater  jiart  of  that 
side  of  the  street  which  fianks  the  river.  Since 
that  time,  a  strong  buttress  has  been  raised  for  the 
protection  of  the  town  ;  but  the  storms  of  every 
winter  prove  the  insufficiency  of  Imman  power,  in  a 
contest  with  nature. 

I  left  liarcires  about  half-past  seven,  to  ascend 
the  Bic  du  Mhli.  I  followed  the  steep  and  narrow 
path  that  skirts  the  side  of  the  mountains,  on  the 
southern  bank  of  the  (Jave— sometimes  ascending 
many  hundr.'d  feet  above  the  river,  sometimes  de- 
scending to  its  ]>riiik,  and  crossing  two  naked 
defiles,  one  the  defile  of  Lienz,  the  other  that  of  Es- 
cabous.  The  torrents  which  rush  down  these 
defiles  are  as  impetuous  and  almost  as  large  as  the 
Gave  de  Ikistan,  which  they  join  ;  and  the  burst- 
ing of  a  storm  over  the  Neou  Vkilie,  is  almost  as 
disastrous  in  its  effects  as  when  it  bursts  over  the 
Pic  du  Midi.  From  Bareges,  all  through  the  valley 
of  Bastan  towards  the  Tourmalet,  there  is  not  a 
single  habitation  on  the  right  acclivity  of  the  moun- 
tains. These  would  be  exi)osed  to  certain  destruc- 
tion from  the  torrent  and  the  avalanche.  On  the 
opjujsite  side  of  the  river,  a  little  scanty  verdure 
and  a  few  huts  may  here  and  there  be  seen,  perched 
upon  those  spots  which  are  above  the  reach  of  the 
water-courses;  while  higher  up,  among  the  alpine 
hollows  and  slopes,  are  thinly  scattered  the  sum- 
mer-habitat i(ms  of  the  shepherds. 

Emerging  from  the  narrow  valley  of  Bareges,  I 
found  mvsclf  in  a  w  ide  hollow,  where  the  ditterent 
feedei-s  of  the  Gave  du  Bastan  meet,  and  unite  into 
the  one  stream  that  Hows  past  Bareges.  The 
bridges  which  carry  the  paths  across  the  streams 
ha<l  all  been  swept  away  a  few  weeks  befV.re  ;  and 
it  was  therefore  necessaVy  to  ford  them.  From  this 
hollow,  or  basin,  several  of  the  wildest  pastoral  val- 
leys of  the  Pyrenees  branch  to  the  right,  bounded 
by  the  suminits  of  the  Campana,  Coubie're,  and 
Espade.  Formerly,  and  occasionally  even  to  this 
day,  tliese  valleys  'have  been  the  scenes  of  a  petty 
border  warfare^  carried  on  for  the  right  of  pas- 
turage~S(mietimes  between  the  shepherds  of  one 
valK°y  against  another  valley—and  sometimes  the 
shepherds  of  Gascony  and  liearn  against  those  of  the 
Spanish  valleys.  With  reference  to  these  disputes, 
a  singular  usage  is  observed  at  this  day  in  the  valley 
of  Barnetons,  an  account  <»f  which  is  thus  given 
bv  the  author  of  "  AVas  JIitton<jne.s  sur  le  Bkirn  ;" 


I 


"  Chaque  annde,  le  13  de  Juin,  les  jurats*,  des 
sept  communautds  Espagnoles  de  Boncal,  et  sept 
jurats  de   Barnetons,  avec  un  notaire,  se  rendent, 
chacun  de  leur  cot^  sur  le  sommet  des  Pyre'n^es,  au 
lieu  nomm^  Arna,    lieu  qui    se'pare  le  Beam  de 
I'Espagne.     Tons  sont  amies  des  piques,  et  les  de- 
putes de  chaque  nation  s'arretent,  chacun  sur  leur 
territoire.     Les  Espagnols  proposent  aux  Bearnais 
de  renouveler  la  paix  ;  les  Bearnais  y  consentent, 
et  posent  leurs  piques  sur  la  ligne  de  demarcation. 
Les  Espagnols  placent  leurs  piques  en   eroix  sur 
cellesdes  Bearnais,  et  le  fer  est  tourne  vers  le  Be'arn. 
Ensuite  Boncalais  et  Bernais,  tons  mettent  la  main 
sur  la  cr(»ix  fV)rmee  par  les  })iques.     Le  notaire  lit 
line  formule  de  serment,  et  les  de'putes  de  part  et  de 
I'autre   repetent   cinq  fois,   Pats  a   hant    (Paix  a 
I'avenir).     Apres  ce  serment,  les  d^pute's  se  melent 
ensemble,  et  se  parlent  comme  amis.     Cependant 
on  voit  sortir  de  hois  trente  homines  de  Barnetons, 
partages  en  trois  bandes,  conduisant  trois  vaches 
exactement  pai-eilles  ;    ils  les   ])lacent  tour-a-tour 
sur  les  limites,  la  moitie  du  corps  en  Espagne',  et 
I'autre   en  Beam  ;  les  depute's  de   Boncal   les  ex- 
aminent  et  les  reyoivent.     Trente  habitans  de  Bon- 
cal viennent  les  prendre.  S'ils  les  laissent  echapper, 
elles  sont  perdues  pour  eux,  et  les  Bearnais  ne  sont 
pas  teims  de  les  rendre.     Apres  cette  ccremonie, 
les  Espagnols  traitent  les  Bearnais  en  pain,  vin,  et 
jambon  ;  et  la  fete  est  terminee  par  un  march^  de 
betail  qui  se  tient  dans  le  territoire  de  Be'arn." 

Several  small  huts  are  situated  near  the  foot  of 
the  mountains  ;  and  as  1  passed  by  their  doors, 
two  or  three  ragged  children  ran  out,  to  offer  me 
milk.  I  liad  l)reakfasted  l)ut  scantily  at  Bareges  ; 
and  as  I  could  not  expect  to  find  any  refreshment 
until  night,  I  willingly  accepted  the  offer,  and  led 
my  horse  into  the  little  court.  The  milk  was  brought 
in*  a  large  iron  goblet ;  and  a  flat  wooden  ladle, 
such  as  is  used  in  the  Alps,  was  handed  to  me,  w  ith 
I  the  assistance  of  which  1  made  a  second  hearty 
breakfast. 

It  is  orenerallv  said,  that  the  milk  of  the  Pvre- 
nees  is  inferior  to  that  of  the  Alps.  I  can  only  say, 
that  I  never  drank  more  delicious  milk  in  Switzer- 
land than  I  drank  this  morning.  The  same  yellow 
flower,  which  in  Switzerland  covers  the  Alpine  val- 
leys, and  to  which  tlie  Swiss  attribute  the  excel- 
lence of  their  milk,  is  seen  also,  in  almost  equal 
abundance,  in  the  Pyrenees.  On  this  and  on  many 
future  occasions,  I  drank  delicious  milk  in  the  Py- 
renean  valleys  ;  and  I  do  not  believe  that  it  is  infe- 
rior in  (}uality  to  the  milk  of  Switzerland.  It  is 
the  scanty  sujiply  afforded  by  the  cattle  of  the  Py- 
renet^s,  that  has  led  to  the  error ;  for  the  supj)ly 
being  insufficient  for  the  demand  during  the  season 
of  the  waters,  it  is  of  course  adulterated,  and  so 
gets  a  bad  name. 

From  the  point  at  which  I  had  now  arrived,  I 
left  altogether  the  trace  of  any  road,  striking  up 
the  acclivity  to  the  left  towards  tlie  upper  valleys, 
from  which  rises  the  Pic  du  Midi.  During  the  fii-st 
hour  we  passed  through  pasture-land,  where  some 
summer-habitations  of  the  mountaineers  were  visi- 
ble, and  some  meadows  laid  out.  Higher  up  we 
left  these,  and  found  ourselves  among  the  scattered 

•  The  Jurats  are  perpetual  magistrates,  created  by  the 
Bernese  in  1720.  Tliey  judged,  without  appeal,  all  disputes 
eitlier  between  the  inhabitants  themselves,  or  between  the 
prince  and  his  subjects. 


til 
.J* 


i 


'M 


;l 


t, 


J' 


wJ 


U  ■:-■ 
\%* 

•A 

I- 


DO 


VALLEY  OF  CAMPAN. 


[chap.  XXIX. 


flacks  that  had  been  sent  beyond  the  reach  of  tlie 
nuudows.  Here  I  was  deUglited  with  the  charm- 
in';  carpet  of  the  sIojjch  and  upjx'r  platforniH.  All 
these  acclivitieH  1  found  covered  with  the  plants 
and  Howers  1  had  seen  in  Switzerland,  with  the 
addition  of  box,  wiiicii,  in  the  lower  parts  of  the 
I'yrenees,  forms  in  most  places  a  complete  under- 
wood. Still  higher,  and  just  before  enterin«;  the 
narrow  upper  valley  that  leads  to  tlie  Pic,  the  slopes 
and  platforms. presented  a  singular  and  ])eautifiil 
appearance.  They  were  entirely  covered  with  the 
large  ])hie  pendent  leaves,  and  yellow  eyes  of  the 
iris,  which  grew  in  millions  over  all  this  part  of 
the  mountain. 

Till  now,  the  Pic  du  Ml<li  liad  not  been  visible. 
It  is  long  hichlen  liy  the  two  shoulders  of  the  moun- 
tains that  Hank  the  upi>«n-  valley  which  leads  to  its 
biuse.  Now,  however,  when  v\e  turned  into  this 
valley,  it  rose  before  us  free  from  vapour;  but 
some'  light  clouds  lianging  upon  the  lower  acclivi- 
ties, awakened  my  fears  as  to  the  continuance  of  a 
serene  atmospliere.  The  valley  wiiich  J  had  now 
entered  was  of  the  most  desolate  kind  ;  the  ascent 
was  extremely  precipitous,  and  was  covered  with 
rocks  and  stones  ;  but  there  was  nothing  dangerous 
in  the  path  to  a  i)edestrian— for  I  found  it  neces- 
sary to  dismount,  and  drive  my  horse  before  me. 
After  pursuing  this  fatiguing  ascent  about  an  hour, 
we  reached  tlie  highest  basin  in  the  mountain, 
where  lies  the  Lake  d'Oncet,  and  froin  which  springs 
the  conical  summit  of  the  I'ic  du  Midi. 

The  scenery  here  is  of  the  wildest  description. 
Nothing  is  seen  but  a  cliaos  of  precipices  and 
mountain-peaks;  and  tlie  seclusion,  depth,  and 
stillness  of  this  mountain-lake,  greatly  add  to  the 
impressive  effect  of  the  scentry.  The  Lake  d'On- 
cet is  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  nuijestic  preci- 
l)ices  of  bald  rock  ;  and  from  its  northern  side,  the 
peak  rises  directly  above  the  precii)ice  that  dips 
into  it.  The  lake  is  one,  if  not  th(>  highest,  of 
the  mountain-lakes  in  Europe.  Its  level  is  only 
l{{f>0  feet  below  the  summit  of  the  p*'ak  ;  and  it 
therefore  lies  no  less  than  7r.«!l  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea,  exceeding,  by  at  least  above  a  thousand 
feet,  the  elevation  of  the  lake  of  the  Oberalj)  in 
Switzerland.  I'atigued  in  some  degree  with  the 
ascent,  1  walked  to  the  brink  of  the  water  and 
seated  myself  upon  a  stone.  No  breath  of  air  can 
reach  this  nu)untain-lake— it  lay  in  perfect  calm — 
the  terrific  precipices  that  rise  from  it,  image<l  in 
its  dark,  quiet  depths.  Huge  fragments  of  rock 
lay  every  where  around  ;  and  among  them  blos- 
somed the  daphne,  and  the  crimson  Howei-s  of  the 
rhododendn^n,  by  the  pn-senct'  of  which  the  tra- 
veller may  know  sometliing  of  the  altitude  he  has 
attained. 

While  seated  here,  the  guide  directed  my  atten- 
tion to  two  objects  moving  along  one  of  the  upper 
ledges  of  the  opposite  precipice.  They  were  i/.ards, 
the  chamois  of  the  Pyrenees,  somewhat  smaller 
than  the  chamois  of  the  Alps,  but  of  the  same  spe- 
cies, I  believe,  and  enualiy  worth  tlie  attention  of 
the  hunter ;  but  along  with  the  izards,  a  less  agree- 
able ol)ject  met  my  eye.  This  was  a  canopy  of  va- 
pour that  had  gathered  around  the  suininit  of  the 
peak  ;  and  from  the  hnvcr  defiles  an<l  valb  ys,  clomls 
had  begim  to  rise,  and  rolled  up  the  mountain-side. 
This  was  ti-uly  vexatious  ;  another  hour  would  have 
carried  me  to  the  sunnnit  ;  for,  from  the  Lake 
d'Oncet  the  Pic  du  Midi  is  easily  ascended.    I  kei)t 


my  seat  by  the  lake  some  time  longer,  hoping,  if 
not  ex[>ecting,  tliat  the  mists  would  roll  away  ;  but 
thev  every  moment  became  more  dense.  If  the 
sunnnit  were  one  moment  discovered,  it  was  only 
to  be  involved  the  next  in  thicker  obscurity.  At 
length  the  surface  of  the  lake  beu'an  to  be  dimpled 
with  rain  ;  and  it  was  then  out  of  the  (piestion  te 
attempt  the  ascent.  But  I  resolved,  notwithstand- 
ing the  rain,  to  procet'd  to  Pagneres,  across  the 
Tounnalet,  and  to  attempt  the  ascent  m-xt  day, 
from  the  other  si(l(%  which  I  knew  to  be  jtassable, 
although  more  dithcult.  The  i-ain  had  now  in- 
creased ;  and,  perceiving  a  small  shelter  of  stones 
and  heath  at  no  great  distaTice,  tenanted  by  two 
nKtuntaiiK'crs,  we  nuule  towards  it,  and  found  a 
hospitable  rece]>tion.  What  a  spot  was  this  for 
human  beings  to  live  in!  It  was  in  the  interior 
about  eight  feet  Sijuare  ;  the  walls  were  of  stones 
loosely  put  together,  and  covered  with  heath;  and 
a  thick  layer  of  heath  coven-d  the  ground.  The 
two  men  who  inhabited  it  followed  the  lumible, 
laborious,  but  certain  employment,  of  collecting 
the  manure  from  the  cattle  that  grazed  on  these 
heights  ;  and  every  second  or  third  day,  <Mie  of  the 
two  carried  the  produce  of  their  industry  in  sacks 
to  the  lower  country.  There  they  remain  during 
all  the  time  that  the  u]>i)er  parts  of  the  mountains 
are  traversed  by  the  cattle. 

When  the  niin  ceased,  1  left  the  shelter,  to  con- 
tinue my  journey  towards  Pagneres.  Here  I  dis- 
niis.sed  both  the*  guide  and  the  horse ;  because,  to 
have  gone  from  this  point  to  Pagneres,  by  any 
road  passable  for  a  horse,  would  have  been  a  (Utour 
of  two  leagues.  The  guide  pointed  out  to  me  the 
path  which  1  nuist  follow,  showing  me  an  indistinct 
lin<>  along  the  face  of  the  mountain,  which  appeared 
almost  a  precijiice;  and  cautioning  me  to  be  care- 
ful of  my  foi>ting,  he  left  me,  and  retraced  the  path 
by  which  we  had  reached  the  Lake  d'Oncet. 

I  had  nee<l  of  this  caution  ;  for  the  i>ath  was  in- 
deed both  diihcult  and  dangerous.  Above  it,  was 
a  high  ledge  of  rocks  ;  below,  a  slope,  little  inclined 
from  the  perpendicular  :  the  path  itself  was  often 
altogether  undistinguisliable  ;  having  either  given 
way  and  slid  down  the  sloj)e,  or  been  washed  away 
by  the  rains.  It  was,  in  fact,  only  a  sheei»  or  goat 
track,  and  was  in  no  place  wide  enough  to  permit 
more  than  one  foot  being  placed  in  it.  At  sonie 
jdaces,  a  cleft  in  the  rocks  above  was  the  bed  of  a 
torrent  ;  and  at  such  s|)ots,  the  path  and  steep  slope 
below,  were  hollowed  out  into  a  deep  groove.  It 
was  necessary  there  to  creep  U])on  my  han<is  and 
kiH'es,  for  a  false  stepmiglit  have  hurried  me  down 
a  declivity  of  at  least  tifteen  hundred  feet  ;  not  in- 
deed ])y  a  fall,  but  by  sliding  in  the  naked  bed  of 
the  torrent,  which  would  have  produced  n<>arly  the 
same  effects.  1  esca}>ed  these  dangers,  however, 
and  nached  the  path  whicli  leads  across  the  Tour- 
malet  from  Parcges. 

The  Tounnalet  is  a  mountain-ridge  elevated 
about  nOOO  fe(>t,  and  dividing  the  valley  of  Pareges 
from  the  valley  of  CanipaM.  Sterility  reigns  on 
one  side  of  the  ramj>art  ;  fertility  on  the  other. 
Tlie  stern  and  dreary  basin  and  valley  of  Pastan, 
and  its  desolating  torrent,  are  on  one  hand  ;  the 
verdant  carjiet  and  wooded  valley  of  C'ampan,  and 
its  ft'rtilizing  Adour,  are  on  the  other.  The  view, 
therefore,  from  this  point  cannot  be  otherwise  than 
striking  aud  varied,  since  it  embraces  pictures  of 
characters  so  oppositt-.      Prom  tlu'  summit  of  the 


CHAP.  XXX.] 


BAGNERES  DE  BIGORRE. 


91 


pass,  to  the  commencement  of  the  valley  of  Campan, 
the  slopes  of  the  mountain  were  entirely  covered 
with  cattle  and  sheep.  The  transition  from  the 
deep  seclusion  and  the  dead  stillness  of  the  Lake 
d'Oncet,  and  the  solitary  scenes  I  had  passed 
throuu'h,  to  the  sheep-spotted  slopes,  and  the  low- 
ing aini  bleating  of  the  Hocks,  seemed  fraught  with 
life  and  cheerfulness  ;  and,  although  it  again  rained 
so  hard  as  to  soak  my  clothes  in  a  few  miimtes,  I 
could  not  help  lingering  among  those  sweet  pastoral 
scenes.  Before  reaching  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
I  passed  two  small  hamlets,  called  Trasm.'sagues, 
and  Artigues,  the  highest  summer-habitations  ()f 
the  mountaineers  of  the  valleys  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Tounnalet. 

It  is  at  (J rip,  about  a  mile  lower  down  the  Adour 
than  the  foot  of  the  Tounnalet,  that  the  valley  of 
Campan  mav  be  said  to  begin  ;  though,  until  we 
reach  the  little  village  of  Sainte  Marie,  it  is  some- 
times called  the  valley  of  (irip.  No  valley  of  the 
Pyrenees,  scarcely  any  vallt;y  of  Euro])e,  has  been 
more  extolled  tluui  th<>  valley  of  Campan.  That  it 
is  a  beautiful  and  charming  valley,  fertile,  rhiNfe, 
and  full  of  life,  and  industry,  and  abundance,  can- 
not be  denied  ;  but  it  may  very  well  be  questioned 
whether  it  justifies  the  extravagant  praisus  of  those 
who  consider  it  entitled  to  a  decided  supremacy 
over  all  the  other  scenes  which  the  Pyrenees  dis- 
close. It  is  beautiful ;  but  it  does  not  boast  that 
union  of  beauty,  picturesciueness,  and  sublimity, 
which  ii  the  characteristic  of  the  valley  of  Luz  ; 
and  even  in  the  elentents  of  beauty,  I  think  it  will 
scarcely  bear  a  comparison  with  the  valleys  of  Ar- 
geles  and  Pierrefitte.  But  1  willingly  admit  the 
claims  of  the  valley  of  Campan  to  beauty  of  a  very 
high  order;  gentle  declivities— Hat  meadows— or- 
cluirds,  copses,  and  gardens— charming  verdure- 
many  clear  rivulets — a  line  river— marks  of  un- 
wearied industrv— numerous  j)retty  cottages,  and 
freijuent  villages* :— these  are  the  pleasing  features 
of  the  vallev  of  Cam{)an. 

In  this  beautiful  valley,  there  is  nothing  more 
beautiful  than  the  spectacle  of  industry,  and  the 
clean  and  comfortable  api)earance  of  the  cottages. 
The  neat  and  wv.W  laid  out  gardens,  and  tlie  respect- 
al)le  dress  of  the  peasants,  are  sutticient  evidence 
that  industry  in  the  valley  of  Campan  is  rewarded 
iu  the  fertility  of  the  s(.U.  Here,  nobody  is  to  be 
seen  doing  nothing  :  the  women,  in  particular,  are 
examples  of  industry  :  every  one  has  her  distaff 
and  spindle  ;  whether  she  be  on  the  highway  driv- 
ing pack-horses  or  nmles  before  her  ;  or  henling 
ca7tle  in  a  meadow  ;  or  sitting  at  her  cottage-door  ; 
or  strolling  in  the  fields  ;  or  gossiping  with  a  neigh- 
bour,—the  distatt"  is  seen  in  her  liand,  and  the 
spindle  by  her  side. 

Between  the  little  town  of  Campan  and  Pag- 
neres, the  valley  expands,  so  as  to  deserve  the 
name  of  a  vale  rather  than  a  valley  ;  and  a  plahi  of 
some  extent  lies  between  tin?  road  and  the  river. 
Notwithstanding  the  coinforUible  condition  in  which 
the  inhabitants  of  this  valley  appear  to  live,  the 
vicinity  of  the  baths,  and  iuHux  of  strangers,  have 
produced,  even  there,  its  usual  ettects,  by  begetting 
habits  of  idleness  among  some,  and  by  tainting  th<> 
simplicitv  of  th(»ught.  The  children  are  almost  all 
beggai-s,'and  without  the  plea  of  necessity.  Every 
few  hundrerl  yards,  you  are  accosted  by  children, 
who  run  from  the  cottages,  and  |)erst'cute  you  with 
tli(>se  three  (questions  :    "  Monsieur,  voulez-vous  un 


bouquet?"  "  Monsieur,  voulez-vous  voir  le  grotte  ?" 
"  Monsieur,  voulez-vous  me  donner  un  sous  T'  As 
for  the  bouquet  which  the  child  offers,  it  is  not  like 
the  two  or  three  pretty  rose-buds  which  the  Hower- 
girls  of  Paris  stick  in  your  breast  nudyri  was  ;  but 
a  common  daisy,  a  bit  of  heath,  or  even  a  handtul 
of  grass — any  thing  as  an  excuse  for  asking  a 
sous 

The  weather  had  cleared  up  soon  after  I  de- 
scended the  Tounnalet ;  and  all  through  the  valley 
of  Campan  it  had  been  fair  and  sunshine  ;  so  that  I 
was  thoroughly  dry  before  1  reached  Bagneres, 
which  1  walked  hito  about  five  o'clock. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

BAGNERES  DE  BIGORRE— ASCENT   OF   THK  PIC  DU  MIDI. 

Bagneres  de  Bigorre — Its  Visitors,  Attractions,  and  Waters 
—Journey  from  Bagneres  to  Grip,  and  Morning  Scenes- 
Ascent  of  the  Pir  du  Midi— View  from  the  Summit— Re- 
marks, and  Comparison  of  ditfefent  Views  from  different 
Mountains— Temperature— Descent,  and  Return  to  St. 
Sauveur. 

It  has  been  said  of  Bagneres,  that  it  is  a  town  where 
pleasure  has  raised  her  altare  beside  those  of  Escu- 
lapius  ;  and  this  is  true  ;  for  it  is  only  at  Bagneres, 
among  all  the  watering-places  of  the  Pyrenees,  that 
that  kind  of  pleasure  is  to  be  found,  which  is  usually 
sought  for  at  a  watering-place.  Bagneres  is,  for 
this" reason,  by  far  the  most  frequented  of  the  baths  ; 
because  it  is  not  freciuented  by  mvalids  only,  but 
also  by  two  other  kinds  of  visiters— those  whose 
slight  ailments  are  co?upatible  with  the  pursuit  of 
pleasure  ;  and  those  who  are  driven,  by  the  heats 
of  summer,  from  the  plains  of  France  to  the  moun- 
tain-air of  the  Pyrenees.  Among  this  latter  cla.ss 
may  be  ranked  the  great  majority  of  the  English 
who  reside  at  Pan  and  its  neighbourhood.  The 
strangers  who  resort  to  Bagneres  are,  however, 
chieHv  composed  of  French— not  from  Paris— for, 
to  the  Parisians,  the  Tuileries  is  the  most  charming 
of  forests  ;  Montmartre,  the  prince  of  mountains  ; 
and  as  for  society,  who  would  seek  for  it  beyond  the 
soiroit  and  salons  of  Paris  ? 

This  predilection  of  the  French  for  every  thing 
Parisian,  and  their  unwillingness  to  believe  that 
there  is  a  world  beyond  Paris,  recalls  to  my  mind  a 
little  incident  worth  relating.  Leaving  Paris  in 
the  diligence  for  Aix-la-Chapelle,  I  chanced  to 
observe,  in  conversation  with  a  French  gentlenian, 
that  I  was  tired  of  plains,  and  that  a  country  with- 
out mountains  could  not  be  interesting;  and, 
observing  that  a  lady  opposite  seemed  to  listen  to 
the  conversation,  1  turned  to  her,  and  said,  "  You 
have  no  mountains,  Madam,  in  Paris  {"  "  Je  vous 
demande  pardon.  Monsieur,"  said  she,  with  the  ut- 
most seriousness ;  and  with  something  of  an^  off  ended 
air,  "  nous  avons  les  montagnes  Russes."*  *'  Ah  I 
e'est  vrai,"  1  replied  ;  "  mille  pardons." 

But  to  return  to  Bagneres  :  it  is  not  frequented 
by  the  Parisians,  unless  the  medical  man  should 
happen  to  be  so  great  a  barbarian  as  to  send  them 
there.  It  is  patronised  by  the  inhabitants  of  Thou- 
louse,  and  the  Bourdeaux  merchants  ;  and,  next  to 
the  French,  it  is  most  resorted  to  by  the  Russians, 

♦  The  reader  doubtless  knows,  that  the  Montagnes  Russes 
are  artilicial  hillocks. 


^-, 


H 


92 


PIC  DU  MIDI. 


[chap.  XXX. 


f 


\i  Ij 


who  are  now  found  all  over  the  world  as  tnivellers 
pmr  (hp-tmensf,  and  who  threaten  t<»  darken  the 
reputation  now  and  lonj;  enjoyed  Isy  the  Kii^lish,  of  j 
behi^  the  c^reatest  travelU-rs  upon  i-arth.  Wherever 
we  look  into  a  list  of  visitors  to  any  celebrated  spot, 
we  hnd  it  clieqnered  with  the  outlandish  names  of 
this  prinee  and  that  count  ;  and  upon  lookin-^  over 
the  list  at  Ba^Mieres  for  the  i»ast  year,  I  found  twice 
as  many  Russiati  as  Enti^lish  names.  As  many  as 
ei^lit  thousand  strangei-s  have  been  assembled  at 
Baf^neres  at  one  time.  It  doubtless  possesses  many 
adv-iintafjes  both  to  the  healthy  and  the  intirm. 
Deli;^ditful  drives  au<l  promenades,  and  the  f^aiety 
occasioned  by  some  thousands  of  pei-sons  who  have 
nothini;  to  do,  are  sufticieut  attractions  for  the  for- 
mer ;  and  the  abundance,  the  choice,  and  salubrity 
of  the  medicinal  s[>rings,  are  attraction  enough  to 
the  latter. 

But  Bai,nieres  is,  notwithstanding:,  no  favourite 
of  mine.  In  the  tirst  place,  it  is  n(»t  in  the  Pyre- 
nees, and  does  not  possess  the  chai'm  of  mountain- 
scenery.  The  views  around,  beautifid  thouj^h  they 
be,  are  not  mountain-views  ;  and  the  air  is  not 
mountain-air  :  and,  in  the  next  place,  the  town 
itself  islar^'e,  noisy,  and  dirty,  and  a  sfioir-phirc  into 
the  bar^'ain.  The  only  thiu'i  I  like  about  Ba<;ncres, 
is  the  head-dress  of  the  native  women.  This  is  a 
handkerchief,  adjusted  to  the  hea<l  in  a  far  more 
tasteful  way  than  1  have  ever  seen  a  turban  ui  an 
En<^lisli  bail-room.  It  is  hnpossible  to  describe  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  put  on  ;  it  nuist  be  seen  ;  and 
I  question  if,  even  then,  an  Kni^dish  «,Mrl  could  rea- 
dily iujbibe  the  lesson.  This  manner  of  adornin-; 
the  head  is  universal  over  all  the  most  south- 
western ])arts  of  France,  from  Thouloiise  to  Bay- 
onne  ;  and  there  is  soniethiuLj  in  it  so  becomini;, 
and  so  smart,  that  I  am  suri)rised  the  usage  has 
not  extended  as  far  as  women  are  to  be  found  who 
are  fond  of  admiration.  The  handkerchief  used  is 
not  silk,  but  a  very  thin  kind  of  stutf  ;  and  the  pat- 
tern is  generally  abroad  strip<-  of  green  and  orange, 
crimson  and  blue,  or  other  bright  colours. 

The  abl)e'  Laspales,  who  wrote  an  historical  essay 
upon  liagneres,  says  it  was  founded  in  the  year  of 
Rome  •)()').  In  the  inunediate  vicinity  of  the  town, 
there  is  an  emiui-nce  called  the  camp  of  C'lesar  ; 
and  although  this  appellation  be  given  to  many  an 
eminence  upon  winch  the  legions  of  Ciesijr  never 
pitched  their  tents,  yet  it  is  not  improbable  that 
Ciesar  may  have  visited  Bagneres  ;  for  Bigorn-  was 
forced,  with  the  rest  of  Aijuitaiiia,  to  submit  to  the 
arms  of  that  general.  Bagneres  was  called  yiais 
Aqucrms  by  the  !{on\ans,  who  appear  not  to  have 
been  ignorant  of  the  uses  of  its  watirs  ;  for  several 
inscriptions  remain,  testifying  their  thankfulness 
for  the  benehts  which  it  conferred.  The  most 
ancient  of  these,  is  one  of  Severus  Seranus,  which 
is  yet  quite  legible,  and  contains  these  words  : — 

"  Nymphis  pro  salute  sua 
Sever.  Scnuius  V.  S.  L.  M."  • 

Upon  the  doors  of  the  baths,  too,  are  seen  several 
slabs  with  inscriptions,  setting  forth  the  benefits 
derived  from  the  waters,  along  with  Roman  acknow- 
ledgments of  them.  M.  Sarabeyrouse,  in  his  obser- 
vations upon  the  nature  and  elfects  of  these  waters, 
gives  the  following  general  character  of  them  : — 
"  Les  sources  thermales  de  Bagneres  possedent  en 
general,  au  degre   le  plus  avantageux,  toutes  les 

•  Vita  salva  luit  mciita. 


proprietes  qui  sont  le  partage  de  la  elasse  d'eaux 
mincrales  salines  a  laquelle  elles  appartiennent.  En 
effet,  elles  sont  j)lus  diurdti<ines  (pfaueune  de  celles 
(}ui  les  avoisinent  ;  elles  sont  purgatives,  et  fortifient 
puissamment  Testomac  et  les  intestins,  en  les  debar- 
ra.ssant  des  nmcositcs  (jui  p(Mivent  s'y  etre  accunm- 
Ic'es  ;  elles  rcvcillent  Tenergie  des facullcs  digestives, 
et  raniment  Taction  organique  des  solides,demaniere 
a  faciliter  I'exercice  de  toutes  les  fonctions."  This 
is  saying  nnich  for  the  waters  of  Bagneres,  but 
scarcelv  more  than  is  seconded  by  the  experience 
of  th(»se  who  have  tried  them.  There  are  no  fewer 
than  eighteen  diftVrent  springs  at  Bagneres,  their 
temperature  ranging  from  25  to  'M\  <legrees  of 
Reaumur.  Each  of  the  Byreiu-an  baths  is  under 
the  direction  of  a  midical  insi)ectt)r,  who  mud  be 
consulted  before  any  one  is  permitted  to  employ  the 
waters.  He  is  paid  by  government,  aiid  th(>refore 
the  consultation  costs  nothing;  and  the  expense  of 
the  bath  is  not  more  than  one  franc. 

Bagneres  is  less  expensive  than  St.  Sauveur  as  a 
place  of  residence,  because  it  is  situated  in  a  more 
productive  coniUry  ;  but  it  is  far  froni  being  cheap, 
nevertheless.  At'  the  puldic  establislunents,  one 
chamber  costs  five  francs  ;  breakfast  of  tea  or  coffee, 
two  francs  ;  diimer,  four  francs.  To  those  wliolive 
in  j)rivate  lodgings,  market-prices  are  also  high. 
Meat  is  s<-ldom  below  8d.  per  lb.  A  fowl  costs 
Is.  :id.  Milk  and  butter  are  both  dear;  and  al- 
thougli  r'tn  ordinain'  may  be  had  at  4d.  per  bottle, 
tolerable  wine  costs  at  least  double  that  sum. 

1  had  no  temptation  to  remain  at  Bagneres  be- 
vond  the  day  following  my  arrival  ;  uird  accord- 
ing! v,  the  second  morning,  about  an  hour  before 
sunrise,  I  left  Bagneres  in  the  intention  of  break- 
fasting at  Trri]*,  and  of  attenq>ting  the  ascent  of  the 
J'ir.lnMH}  from  that  side,  if  the  weather  should 
jirove  favourable.  The  sun  rose  upon  the  moun- 
tains as  I  walked  up  the  valh'y  of  ('anq>an  ;  ami 
many  were  tlie  charming  ])ictures  which  my  morn- 
ing walk  atibrded.  The  valley  was  still  all  in  shad.-, 
unless  where,  through  some  openings  in  the  moim- 
tains,  the  golden  flood  streamed  across  it.  The 
labonri'rs  were  busy  in  the  fields  ;  some  in  the  lower 
grounds,  cutting  and  getting  in  the  harvest — others, 
higher  up  the  sloi)t\s,  mowing  hay — and  some,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  cottages,  spreading  out 
flax.  Women,  with  their  scarlet  capulets  gathered 
up  on  their  heails,  and  scarlet-stripeil  petticoats, 
andspindl.  s  by  their  sides,  were  following  little  herds 
of  cattle  and  troops  of  goats  going  to  pasture.  The 
little  mountain-streams,  clear  and  cool,  danced 
along  ;  aud  all  nature  wore  the  joyous  and  life-like 
aspect  of  the  morning. 

After  a  somewhat  long,  but  delightful  walk,  I 
reached  Grip  to  lireakfast,  about  seven  o'clock  ;  and 
some  excellent  brown  bread,  new  milk,  and  deli- 
cious butter,  prepared  me  for  the  fatigue  (»f  my 
journey.  The  weather  was  (piite  .serene,  and  then; 
was  not  the  least  vapour  upon  the  ])eak.  1  there- 
fore rested  at(Jri[)  only  until  1  had  finished  my 
repast,  and  set  out  to  asc«  nd  the  mountain.  The 
ascent  of  the  IMc  du  .Miili  from  this  side,  is  far 
more  arduous  than  from  the  side  of  Bareg«>s.  From 
Bareges,  onc^  may  riile  a  sure-footed  hoi-se  as  far  as 
the  hlike  d'Oncet,  within  -JOOO  feet  of  the  sunnnit. 
Frotn  (Jrij),  it  is  inq)ossible  to  go  one  step  otherwise 
than  on  foot  ;  and  the  j>ath  is  not  only  steep,  but  in 
many  places  reciuires  a  stea<ly  step  and  a  strong 
i   i,,.ji,i__to  make   use  of  a    connnon,  though  absurd 


CHAP.  XXX.] 


PIC  DU  MIDI. 


93 


expression.  I  took  no  guide  from  Grip,  because  the 
mountain  beuig  unclouded,  and  the  peak  frequently 
in  sight,  it  was  next  to  impossible  that  I  should 
mistake  my  way.  , 

The  journey  up  the  mountain  was  fertile  in  all  i 
those  charming  and  exhilanuing    prospects   which   ; 
mountain-scenery  never  fails  to  disclose  ;  and  after 
three    hours'    continued    walking,    sometimes    nj) 
grassy  slopes,  sometimes  through   narrow   ravines,  , 
sometimes   over  rugged  rocks,  sometimes  skirting  j 
the  sides  and  summits  of  deep  precii)ices,  1  reached  | 
the  point   where  the  ])ath  which  1  followed^  meets 
the    i)ath    that    ascends   from   the    Lake    d'Oncet, 
From  this  point,  the  ascent,  although  steep,  is  free 
from  difficulty.    A  fine  elastic  turi'  is  i)lcasant  foot- 
ing ;    and    nothing    is    rcM^uired   excei»ting    strong 
limbs  and   good   lungs.     Patches  of  snow  yet  lay 
in    tlu>    little   hollows  ;   and   the   beautiful    flowers 
blooming  around,   recalled  to   my  recollection   the 
ascent  of  Mount  Badus,  in  Sw itzirland.    I  sturdily 
pui-sued   my  journey,  looking  neither  behind,  nor 
to  the  right'nor  the  left,  that  the  view  from  the  sum- 
mit might  be  the  more  striking — and  only  resting 
occasionally  upon  my  hands  and  knees  ;  and  a  little 
bef  ire  mid-day,  five'hours  after  leaving  Grip,  I  at- 
tained the  sunnnit. 

The  excellence  of  a  view  from   a  mountain-top 
depends  upon  two  things— the  position  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  its  height  ;  and  almost  as  much  depends 
upon  the  one  as  upon  the  other  of  these.    A  moun- 
tain   may   be    so    situated    in   the  midst  of  other 
mountains,  that,  although  greatly  higher  than  any 
of  its  neighboui-s,  nothing  but  inountain-peaks  may 
be  visible  from  its  sunnnit.     Such  is   the  situation 
of  the  majority  <»f  the  Swiss  mountains  ;  for   if  we 
clomb  to  the  summit  of  the  Shreckhorn,  the  Monk, 
or  almost  any  one  mountain  of  the  Oberlaiid  Ber- 
nois,   we   should   have   no    reward,    exct-pting  ^the 
irimnjih  »if  having  surmounted   a   difficulty.     Ihe 
same  remark  api'lies,  in  a  lesser  degree,  to  Snow- 
don,  Ben  Nevis,  and    Ilelvellyn.     Or  a   mountam, 
even  although  not  so  i^laced   in  the  midst   of  other 
nioinnains,  may   be    unfortimately   situated   for  a 
1   view  from  it,  because  the  surrounding  coiintry  may 
be  uninteresting.     Many  examples  of  this  may  be 
found,  both  at  home  and   abroad.     The  excellence 
of  a  view  from  a  niountain-top,   depends  ui)on   the 
height,  as  well   as  the  position,  of  the  mountiiin. 
No^'one  ever  ascended  Mont  Blanc,  merely  for  the  | 
sake  of  the  view  from   its  sunnnit.     On  such  alti- 
tudes, the  pleasure  we  enjoy  has   little  to  do  with 
the  world  below  :   we  con'nnune  with  heaven  rather 
than  with  earth  ;  the  things  of  time,  and  the  pass- 
ing world  among  them,  are  lost  in  the  gi-andeur  of 
eternitv  ;  and,  standing  upon  the  utmost  limits  of 
human  existence,  the  mind   refuses  to  take  cogni- 
zance of  things  so  insignificant  as  man  and  his 
petty  dcmiain  ;  and  fancy,  soaring  from   the  i)in- 
nacle,   wanders    to    sublimer    scenes     and    higher 
destinies.      Lower  elevations  must  be  sought,  if  we 
climb  the  mountain-side  for  the  sake  of  the  view 
from  the  sunnnit  ;  and  accordingly,  several  of  the 
mountains  most  ct'lebrated  for  such  views,  are  but 
third  or  fourih-rate  mouiUains.      Vesuvius   is  little 
UH.re  than  4000  feet  high  ;  the  Rigi  does  not  reach 
5000  feet  ;    Ben  Lomond  is  only  3000  feet  ;    Da- 
myet  is  still  lower.   All  these  immntains  combine  a 
coniparativelv  low  elevation  with   a  favourable  po- 
sition.    All  of  them,  excepting  Vesuvius,  although 
connected  with  mountain-ranges,  stand  in  some  de- 


gree i-solated  from  the  others,  and  rise  either  from 
lakes,  plains,  or  the  sea. 

I  know  of  no  mountain  whose  qualifications,  as 
to  position  and  height,  are  so  perfect  as  those  of  the 
Pic  du  Midi.     Although  not  isolated,  it  stands  the 
outermost  of  the  Pvrenean  range,  the  most  south- 
erly summit  of  the  High  Pyrenees,  and   dro{)s  at 
once,  from  an  elevation   of  nearly  10,000  feet,  into 
the  i)lains  of  Gascony  and  Beam.     It  is  rare  that 
a  mountain  of  so  great  elevation  forms  t)ne  of  the 
outposts  of  a  mountain-range  ;  and   therefore,  in 
position,  the  Pic  du  Midi  is  perhaps  m.n-e  favour- 
ably situated  than  any  other  mountain  in  Europe. 
But,   in  its  combination    of  position  and   altitude, 
it  undoubtedlv  has  a  still  more  manifest  advantage  ; 
for  although  the  altitude  of  a  mountain  may  be  so 
great  as  to  substitute  a  mere   undefined  feeling  of 
sublimity  ft)r  a   magnificent  ])rospect,  yet  a   very 
considerable  elevation,  if  comliined   with  the  ad- 
vantage of  ]iosition,  is  necessary  to  the  i>crfection 
of  this  pr<.s])ect.     The  view   from   an   elevation  of 
2000  or  3000  feet  may  be  beautiful  in  the  extreme  ; 
but  when  we  look  around  us  from  an  elevation  of 
8000  or  10,000  feet,  beauty  is  mingled   with  sub- 

limitv.  1/     7.7' 

I  recollect  l)eing  once  asked,  at  the  table  d  note, 
in  the  Ecu  de  Geneve,  by  an  English  view -hunter, 
to  which  view,  among  all   that  I  had   ever  seen,  I 
crave  the  preference  ;  and  1  think  that  if,  previous 
to  that  time,  I  had  clomb  the  Pic  du  Midi,  I  should 
have  accorded  the  palm  to  it.     Its  summit  reaches 
an  elevation  from  which  the  extent,  as  well  as  the 
nature  of  the  prospect,  entitles  it  to  rank   with  the 
sublime  ;    and  yet    it   is  still  connected  with  the 
world  below,  so 'that  the  human  i»art  of  the  picture 
(for  we  are  still  able  to  distinguish  the  habitations 
of  men)  lessens  the  oppressive  feeling   which   un- 
mixed   sublimit v   produces   upon  the   mind  ;    and 
while  around  us\ve  have  the  soHtude  and  grandeur 
of  "  the  everlasting  hills,"   below  we  have  a  world 
spread  out,  in  which  we  have  an  interest  ;  and  our 
synqiathies  are  divided   between  the   solitary  sub- 
limity of  nature,  and  the  realities  of  human  life  and 
i  human  affections. 

i       Looking  towards  the  scnith,  1  seemed  to  be  placed 
in  the  centre  of  a  semicircle  of  gigantic  mountains, 
which  stretched  east  and  west  as  far  as  the  horizon, 
and  which  rose  above  one  another  beyond  the  fron- 
tiers of  Spain,  the  towers  of  Marbore  and   Mount 
Perdu  overto])ping  them  all.   To  the  north  stretched 
the  fertile   plains  of  Beam,  Gascony,  and  Langue- 
doc,  which,  even  from  this  high  altitude,  seemed 
like  a  beautiful  mosaic,  though  the  woods,  gardens, 
and   fields,  of  which    the  mosaic    was  composed, 
were  of  course  nndistinguishable  ;  and  the  moun- 
tain upon  which  1  stood,  was  not  the  least  interest- 
in^    part    of   the    i)rospect--its  rugged  rocks,  its 
sin(H)th  slopes,  its  dark  dells,  its  distant  and  dim- 
discovered  valleys,  far,  far  below,  and  the  thread 
of  silver  that  serpentined  through  theiii. 

The  temperature  of  this  high  elevation  was  chill, 
i  l)ut  not  disagreeal)lv  cold  at  first  ;  though,  after 
having  remained  about  half  an  hour,  the  increasing 
chillness  suggested  the  propriety  of  descending.  No 
difference  in  resi)iration  was  perceptible  to  me, 
nor  any  kind  of  bodilv  inconvenience,  at  this  eleva- 
tion of' nearly  1 0,000  "feet.  On  the  summit  of  the 
peak  there  is  a  scanty  vegetation.  I  plucked  some 
mosses,  which  had  piit  forth  their  minute  flowers, 
and  saw  also  the  gentian-root. 


<*.] 


.>»t.i 


•i 

I? 


'±4 


•w- 


1l 


hi 

:  u 

i    ' 

\ 

m 


94 


VALLEY  OF  GAVAUNIE. 


[chap.  XXXI. 


1  kit  the  inuuiitain-top  with  ref^*et  ;  and  yet  I 
hehevc  no  one  ever  descended  i'nun  a  i,'reat  eleva- 
tion, without  beini'  conscious  of  a'Tt'eable  feeling's, 
in  a|)])roaeliin(;  aj^ain  the  habitable  world  from 
which  he  had  been  s«»n\e  time  separated.  In  little 
more  than  half  an  liunr  I  had  reached  tlie  Lake 
d'Oncet,  where  I  resti'd  a  little  whil(%  and  then 
pui-sued  the  ti"ack  by  which  I  had  aseended  two 
days  before  ;  but,  being  on  foot,  I  kept  on  tlie  north 
side  of  the  valley,  along  the  n)ountJun-side,  till  I 
reached  the  valley  of  liareges,  and  then  1  followed 
the  stream.  From  the  entrance  of  the  valley  of 
Bareges  to  the  town — about  a  league — I  counted 
no  fewer  than  sixty-seven  mountain-streams,  which 
pour  into  the  Gave  of  FJastan  ;  and  1  saw  at  least 
as  numy  more  be<ls  of  torrents,  in  whieh  there  was 
at  that  time  no  water.  No  wonder,  then,  that  the 
Gave  of  Bastan  is  celebnited  for  its  ravages. 
Before  dark  1  reached  St.  Sauveur,  which  looked 
more  beautiful  than  any  thing  I  had  seen  since 
leaving  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXL 


TUE    VALLEY  OF    GAVAUNIE MARBORE— 

Di:    IIOLAM),    ANO    THE    VALLEV    OI 


■THE    RRECHE 
IIEAS. 


An  Izard-hunter,  and  his  Conversation — The  Shepherds  and 
their  Flocks—The  Valley  of  Pragii^res— The  Peryada— 
The  Inn  of  Ciavarnie — The  Anipliitlicatrc  of  Marh<)re — 
Ascent  of  tl)f  Bri-the  de  llolaiid,  and  View  into  Si)ain — 
Return  to  Gavarnie  and  Gedro — The  Valley  of  ileas,  and 
a  Fete. 

After  I'eturning  from  the  Pie  du  Midi,  I  remained 
only  one  day  at  St.  Sauveur  ;  and  again  left  it  to 
traverse  the  valley  of  Gavarnie,  and  to  see  the  ci-le- 
brated  amphitheatx'o  of  Marbore,  and  the  Breche 
de  Roland. 

I  left  St.  Sauveur  about  sunrise,  and,  passing  tlie 
convenient  wooden  bridge  ai-ross  the  (Jave,  found 
myself  at  the  entrance  of  the  valley  of  (iavarnie, 
and  upon  the  narrow  road  which  has  been  con- 
structed above  the  river,  ^^)r  some  distance  after 
leaving  St.  Sauveur,  the  valley  is  a  deep  and  dreary 
ravine,  the  river  tlowing  far  below,  in  a  narrow  bed 
between  perj)endicular  rocks,  in  some  [)arts  covered 
with  trees,  which  have  taken  root  in  the  crevices. 
There  is  not  a  hut,  nor  any  cultivation  ;  and  the 
only  person  1  met  was  an  izard-hunter,  who,  although 
he  was  deaf  and  dumb,  recounted  to  me  by  signs 
the  history  of  his  day's  sport.  He  was  a  tall  athletic 
num,  about  fifty  years  of  age.  He  carried  the  izard 
on  his  back,  and  walked  at  the  rate  of  nearly  six 
miles  an  hour,  notwithstanding  this  burden,  and  the 
additional  one  of  a  gun  slung  across  his  shoulders  ; 
and  I  afterwards  learnt,  that  this  man  is  one  of  the 
most  successful,  and  one  of  the  most  fearless  himters 
of  the  Pyrenees.  The  gestures  by  which  he  de- 
scribed the  events  of  the  day,  were  <juite  as  intelli- 
gible as  if  he  had  possessed  the  gift  of  speecli. 
Both  his  own  actions,  and  those  of  the  izard,  were 
imitated  exactly.  He  showed  that  he  had  tired 
twice,  an<i  wounded  the  izard — that  it  tumbled 
down  a  preci})ice — that  he  looked  over,  and  suc- 
ceed(«d  in  scrambling  down — and  that  he  pursued, 
overtook  it,  and  knocked  it  on  the  hea<l  vvith  the  but- 
end  of  his  gun.  He  also  made  me  understand  that 
he  killed  about  three  izards  in  the  week,  and  some- 
times four,  and  that   he  sold  them  at  six  francs  a 


piece,  exclusive  of  the  skin,  which  was  worth  ano- 
ther franc.  What  an  enormous  profit  must  be 
realized  by  the  traUeurs  at  the  baths  !  They  pur- 
chase a  whole  izard  for  six  fi"ancs,  and  divide  it 
into  at  lea.st  twenty  dinner-portions,  at  four  francs 
each  ;  vet  the  successful  izard-hunter  is  richer  than 
the  majority  of  the  Pyrenean  peasants  ;  and  although 
his  jmifcssion  be  both  laborious  and  liangerous,  the 
excitenunt  is  proportioned  to  the  danger  and  ditti- 
culty,  and  the  pleasure  pro))ortioned  to  the  excite- 
ment. When  this  draf  and  dumb  man  was  reciting 
t(>  me,  in  his  own  way,  the  fortunes  of  the  day,  the 
eagerness  of  his  gestures,  and  the  changing  ex])res- 
sion  of  his  countenance  showed  his  enthusiasm  in 
liis  trade,  and  the  delight  he  took  in  its  chanets 
and  issues  ;  and  there  can  l)e  but  little  doubt  that 
when  the  fatigue  and  dangers  of  the  day  terminate 
in  the  possession  of  the  izard,  he  considers  these 
far  overj>aid.  The  mind  of  a  man  who  spends  his 
davs  a  hunter  in  the  mountains,  must  be  strangely 
complexit>ni'd.  l)w«'lling  always  among  mountain- 
solitudes — always  alone  with  nature,  and  amid  her 
grandest  works — companion  of  the  storm,  and  the 
mists, and  the  shadows — the  great  rocks — the  rush- 
in<r  torrents,  and  the  black  lake — we  miy-ht  con- 
dude,  that  the  mind  of  such  a  man  could  not  be 
without  the  elements  of  moral  and  intellectual 
grandeur  ;  but  so,  perhaj)S,  mi^ht  we  argue  of  the 
sailor  v\ho  traverses  the  mighty  deep,  and  })aces 
the  deck  of  the  U>ne  vessel  beneath  the  wide  starry 
sky.  But  it  is  ])robable  that  these  men  look  not 
beyond  their  individual  calling.  The  rudder  that 
guides  the  v«'ssel  through  the  ocean  is,  to  the  mari- 
ner, an  object  of  deeper  interest  than  the  illimitable 
and  trackless  waters  ;  and  to  the  himter  of  the  Alps 
or  the  I'yrenees,  the  only  object  of  interest  among 
the  mountain-solitudes  is  the  little  animal  that  he 
pursues. 

During  the  sunmier  months,  the  road  from  Ga- 
varnie to  the  more  northern  jiarts  of  the  Pyrenees, 
is  constantly  traversed  bv  the  shepherds  and  their 
Hocks,  travelling  from  the  mountains  on  the  Sjianish 
side  to  the  pastures  of  Beam  ;  for  it  is  the  custom 
with  all  the  shei)herds  of  the  Pyrenees  to  change 
their  pastures.  These  patriarchal  s]»ectacles  are 
to  be  seen  every  day.  From  my  window  in  St. 
Sauveur,  which  ojiened  upon  the  (iave  and  the 
o|)p()site  road,  I  could  see  a  constant  succession  of 
these  shepherd-famili(s  and  their  varied  flocks  ; 
and  in  this  morning's  walk  I  met  several.  The 
sheep,  the  cows,  the  goats,  and  the  mules,  formed 
the  line  of  march,  and  behind  was  the  family  of  the 
shejiherd  ;  the  childron  in  liaskets  slung  across  a 
horse  ;  the  mother  walking  by  its  side  ;  and  those 
children  wh(»  were  able  to  walk  runniiii:  Ijehind. 
Such  pictures  as  these  added  greatly  to  the  interest 
and  beauty  of  a  moi-ning  landscape — l)eautiful  even 
without  them,  from  the  pictures(jueasj)ects  in  which 
nature  presentetl  lu'i-stlf. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  izard  hunter,  I  reached  a 
bridgi'  across  the  Gave,  by  which  tli<*  road  i»asses 
to  the  (tpposite  bardc.  The  bridge  is  fraillv  con- 
structed, it  is  supported  in  the  centre  upon  a  pile 
of  stones  raisfd  upon  a  rock,  and  trembles  under 
the  rush  (d"  water,  which,  just  above,  forms  a  rapid 
which  may  almost  be  called  a  cataract.  Here  the 
ravine  widens  into  the  charming  little  valley  of 
Pragneres,  one  of  those  delicious  spots,  w  hich,  shut 
out  from  the  rest  of  the  world  by  sterile  mountains, 
contains    within    itself  every    clement   of   beauty. 


CHAP.  XXXi.] 


MARBORE. 


93 


There  is  a  small  village  of  the  same  name  about  the 
middle  of  the  valley.  It  is  surrounded  bv  little 
meadow  s,  corn-fields,  and  gi-oves.  A  small  stream, 
the  Gave  of  Pragneres,  flows  past  the  village  ;  and 
several  lesser  rills  hurry  through  the  valley,  and 
are  ma<le  sidjservient  to  its  fertility.  \t  will  be 
observed  that  dare  is  the  generic  name  of  every 
stream  in  the  High  Pyrenees.  The  word  signifies 
water  ;  and  therefore  the  Gar^f  without  the  addition 
of  some  place,  does  not  indicate  the  precise  river. 

The  valley  of  Pragneres  is  not  a  mile  in  length  ; 
and,  in  leaving  it,  we  enter  another  defile  about 
two  miles  long,  which  conducts  us  to  Gedro.  This 
is  a  narrow  valley,  nither  than  a  defile  ;  for  fields 
have  here  and  there  been  conijuered  from  the  sterile 
mountains,  and  the  concjuerors  have  pitched  their 
tents  beside  their  territory.  Upon  every  little  level 
stands  a  cottage,  surrounded  ])y  its  meadow,  and 
patch  of  rye  or  oats,  and  shaded  by  its  clump  of 
ash-trees  ;  and,  as  we  a}»proach  nearer  to  Gedro, 
the  views  become  more  smiling,  and  the  valley 
more  populous,  until,  at  the  little  village  of  Gedro, 
another  valley  expands,  like  that  of  Pragneres  ; 
and  the  wild  and  interesting  valley  of'Heas  (ipenson 
the  left.  Of  this  valley  I  shall  s})eak  on  my  return 
fi-om  Gavarnie  ;  for  I  had  purposely  so  timed  my 
journey,  that  I  might  witness  a /*'/<' in  the  valley  of 
Heas,  which  takes  place  on  certain  holidays. 

There  is  searcely  a  w  ilder  or  more  desolate  scene 
in  Switzerland,  than  the  valley  called  by  the 
country-people  Pii^rn<f<i,  through  which  we  jiass 
after  leaving  (Jedro.  Others  have  given  it  the  name 
of  Chaos ;  and  that  name  is,  indeed,  the  best  fitted 
for  it,  which  expresses,  the  most  forcibly,  the  deso- 
late sublime.  The  acclivities  of  the  valley  are 
covered  with  enormous  blocks  of  granite — the  frag- 
ments of  a  fallen  mountain — heaped  upon  one  ano- 
ther, and  of  the  most  enormous  size.  Some  of 
these  fragments  are  said  to  contain  a  hundred 
thousand  cubic  feet.  These  blocks  also  cover  the 
bed  of  the  river  ; — sometimes  forming  arches  across 
it — sometimes  entirely  obstructing  it — and  at  other 
times  forcing  it  into  rapids  and  cataracts.  As  we 
aj)proach  (iavarnie,  the  towex's  of  Marbor^  rise 
majestically  in  front.  The  valley  contracts,  and 
snow  -peaks  are  seen  on  every  side  ;  and  about  half 
a  mile  farther,  we  reach  the  bridge  of  Barygui, 
which  is  undei-stood  to  sepai*ate  the  pastures  of  the 
French  and  Spam'sh  territories,  and,  soon  after 
enter  the  iim  <tf  (iavarnie 
after  a  morning- walk  from  St.  Sauveur. 

One  is  sure  of  a  good  breakfast  at  the  inn  of 
(iavarnie  ;  for  the  convalescents  of  St.  Sauveur 
generally  make  an  exjjedition  to  Gavarnie  before 
leaving  the  baths — sometimes  on  horseback,  a  guide 
leadinj;  the  horse — and  sometimes  in  chairs  or 
palanciuins,  which  are  supported  by  four  men. 
I'ofi'ee,  excellent  milk,  eggs,  good  bread,  tolerable 
butter,  and  izard-steaks,  were  soon  upon  the  table  ; 
and,  after  resting  an  hour,  I  again  set  out.  The  vil- 
lage of  Gavarnie  lies  a  little  way  beyond  the  inn.  It 
belonged  formerly  to  the  Knights  Templar  ;  and,  in 
the  church,  may  still  be  seen  twelve  sculls  of  those 
who  were  beheaded,  when  the  order  was  proscribed. 
All  these  districts  were,  in  former  times,  under  the 
influence  of  the  Templars  ;  and,  in  the  churches,  in 
many  of  the  valU'ys  besides  (iavarnie,  stones  maybe 
seen,  upon  w  hich  are  carved  the  signs  of  the  order. 

At  (iavarnie  the  path  branches  into  two.  One 
branch  diverges  to  the  right,  to  the  Port  d'Espagne, 


a  most  welcome  refuge 


passing  the  western  shoulder  of  the  Marbore,  and 
leading,  at  the  distance  of  two  leagues,  into  the 
valley  of  Broto,  in  Arragon.  The  other  branch, 
which  is  rather  a  track  than  a  road,  leads  up  the 
Gave  to  the  amphitheatre  of  Marbore'  ;  and  this 
was,  of  course,  the  path  I  followed.  The  road  tra- 
verses several  hollows — little  round  or  oblong  spots, 
slightly  excavated — which  are  said  to  have  been 
formerly  lakes  ;  and,  having  ascended  a  rocky  dike, 
1  stood  in  front  of  the  celebrated  circus  of  Mar- 
bore. 

I  must  endeavour  to  convey  to  the  reader  some 
idea  of  this  extraordinary  scene.  Figure  to  your- 
self a  semicircular  space,  covered  with  rocky  frag- 
ments and  snow,  backed  by  a  pei-pendicular  wall  of 
rock,  fourte<.ni  hundred  feet  high.  Suppose  you 
see,  above  this  wall,  the  precise  resemblance  of  an 
ami)hitheatre,  in  regular  stories,  decUning  back- 
wards— each  terrace  covered  with  eternal  snow, 
and  the  ui)permost  of  these  terraces  rising  about 
two  thousand  feet  above  the  perpendicular  wall  ; 
and  then  imagine  rocks  at  intervals,  crowning  the 
whole,  in  the  form  of  round  towers,  and  elevated 
about  a  thcnisand  feet  above  the  amphitheatre. 
Contemplating  a  scene  like  this,  how  insignificant 
seem  the  proudest  works  of  man — the  most  majestic 
ruins  of  antiquity — the  Roman  amphitheatres — 
even  the  colosseiim  !  But  there  is  still  another 
feature  in  the  scene.  Many  torrents  pour  from  the 
amphitheatre  into  the  basin  below.  One,  the 
source  of  the  Gave,  falling  from  a  height  of  fourteen 
undoubtedly  the  highest  cataract 
This  is  the  sublime  source  of  that 


hundred  feet,  is 


m 


Eur 


•o 


pe 


delightful  companion,  in  whose  society  one  may 
journey  through  a  variety  of  scenes,  which,  in  so 
short  a  course,  is  perhaps  not  equalled  on  the  banks 
of  any  other  river.  It  visits,  by  turns,  the  sublime, 
tlie  picturesque,and  the  beautiful — lends  effect  to  the 
w  ild  and  desolate—grace  to  the  gentle  and  the  pas- 
toral— and  watei*s,  into  fertility  and  abundance,  the 
cultivated  plains,  where  it  is  assisted  by  human 
industry.  Passing  through  the  defiles  of  Gavarnie 
and  Luz,  and  the  valleys  of  Argeles  and  Lourdes, 
and  receiving  the  tributary  waters  of  Heas,  Bareges, 
Cauterets,  and  Auzun,  it  flows  into  the  plains  of 
Beam,  joins  the  Adour  near  Bayonne,  and  mingles 
with  the  waves  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  It  may  easily 
be  believed,  that  one  should  feel  no  disposition  to 
leave  suddenly  a  scene  so  full  of  majesty  as  the 
amphitheatre  of  Marbord  ;  but  as  I  purposed  to 
return  to  it  at  the  dawn  of  day  the  following  morn- 
ing, in  order  to  mount  to  the  Breclie  de  Roland,  I 
turned  from  it  with  the  less  regret,  and  slowly  re- 
traced the  path  to  the  inn  of  Gavarnie.  On  the  road 
I  met  two  French  ladies  and  a  gentleman,  conva- 
lescents from  St.  Sauveur,  on  their  way  to  see  the 
amphitheatre  of  Marbor^  ;  and  when  I  reached  the 
iim,  I  found  that  they  had  ordered  a  good  dinner, 
which  it  appeared  I  was  destined  to  share  with 
them. 

I  had  returned  to  the  inn  so  slowly,  that  the 
party  reached  it  scarcely  half  an  hour  after  me  ; 
and  we  were  soon  all  seated  at  a  tolerable  dinner  of 
izard,  fowl,  and  trout.  Vegetables,  indeed,  were 
wanting  ;  for,  at  this  elevation,  no  vegetable  will 
grow,  excepting  potato,  and  the  potatoes  were  bad. 
The  party  proved  agreeable,  talkative,  and  not  ridi- 
culously national.  They  all  agreed,  that  the  amphi- 
theatre*^ of  Marbore'  was  superbe ;  that  the  cataract 
wiis  magnifque ;  that  every  thing  about  the  imi  was 


fl 


96 


BUi:(  111:  1)H  ROLAND. 


[chap.  XXXI. 


joii:  and  the  dinner  was  gentil.     What  is  there  that 

a  French  woniiin  ciumot  <'X|ilain  by  these  four  words  ? 
The  t;f'ntlcnian  was  so  jw»litr  as  to  Huy,  that  tlif 
Kn<iHsh  wfi-t'  tlie  most  enterprising  of  travellers  ; 
and  he  added,  that  if  he  were  not  accompanied  by 
ladies,  lie  should  liave  thou^lit  seriously  of  uceoiu- 
panying  me  to  the  />/-(''7/('  </*'  R<Jiin<L  Soon  alter 
dinner,  my  companions  set  out  to  return  to  St.  Sau- 
veur ;  and,  during  the  two  or  three  houi-s  that  suc- 
ceeded, I  wandered  upon  the  margin  of  the  (lave, 
enjoyed  the  sunset  upon  the  towers  of  Marl)ore, 
and'the  stiUnesrt  and  solitude  of  the  surrounding 
scenes. 

About  six  o'clock  next  morning,  T  left  the  inn, 
accompanied  by  my  guide  Tierre,  to  mount  to  the 
Brechi'  <l<-  liol'ind—the  breach  which  the  warlike 
Roland  is  supposed,  in  tradition,  to  have  made  with 
his  terrible  sword  in  the  wall  of  rock  that  forms 
the  boundary  between  France  and  Spain,  and  thus 
to  have  opened  a  road  to  victory  over  the  Moors. 

I  had  been  long  accustomed  to  the  (exaggerations 
of  guides,  antl  had  learned  to  reduce  them  to  truth. 
My   guide   tlescribed  the   ascent  as  most   })erilt)us,  j 
and   was  provided   with   iron   cramps,  su«)w-shoes, 
poles,  and  all   tlie   apparatus  needed  for  a  danger- 
ous journey   among  snows  and   glaciers.      I   more 
than  half  suspected    that  these  were    but  incum-  i 
brances,  and   found,  that   here,  as  in  tlie  Alps,  the 
guides  magnify  the  dilliculty  of  an  enterprise,  to 
increase  their  own  imi)ortance,  and  pei'haps  to  aug- 
ment  their  reward.     The  onlv  ditHcult  part  of  the 
ascent  is  from  tlu*  foot  of  the  amidiitheatre  to  the 
summit  of  the   rock  from  which  the  cascades  fall. 
There  is  a  narrow  rent  in  the  rock  in  which  wo  as- 
cend, certainly  by  a  steep,  and  in  some  j. laces  a 
perilous  path  ;  ))ut  the  smugglers  who  pass  to  and 
from  Arragon  by  these  luights,  have  greatly  faci- 
litated the  footing,  by  having  trodden  the  track  for 
centuries  ;  and  in  j)laces  of  ditliculty,  footsteps  have 
been  evidently  formed  by  art.    Having  sui-mounted 
this   rock,  I    found   myself  among  high  mountain- 
pastures,  steej)  grassy  acclivities,  that  rise  towards 
the  towei-s,  ]iartiy  covered  with  snow,  and  called  by 
the  shepherds  Mn/luuia  (Jc  S>'rr<vh:<.    Here  we  rested 
a  while,  taking  a  mout'.iful  of  brandy  as  a  prepara- 
tion for  the  rest  of  the  journey.     There  wer(»  lu"re 
no  Hocks,  which   the  guide  said  was  unusual  ;  for 
these  pastures  are  usually  occupied   by  the  Arra- 
gonesi'    flocks    and    their    sheplierds.       l-'rom    this 
point,  we  ascended  a  rugged  path  of  mingled  rock, 
snow,  and  scanty  vegetation,  which,  however,  soon 
ceased,  and   then  entered   u{)on   the  deep   inclined 
plain  of  snow,  which  stretches  nearly  to  the  fireche 
<h'    Iiulitn<L      i    managed   to   ascend   with   only  the 
occasional   assistance  of  my  pole.     Nothing  in  the 
Alps   is  wilder  or   more  des(»late    than  the  views 
around   this   spot.      Rocks,   ])recipic(>s,   snows,   and 
glaciers,  are   all   mingled  together  ;  and  nothing  is 
visible   beyond  ;   for   the  scene  is  shut   in  on  the 
north  by  numerous  peaks,  and  on  the  south  by  the 
boundary  of  the   two   kingdoms.      About  mid-tlay, 
1   gained  the   upper  j)art   of    the   snow-plain,  and 
stood  opj>osite  to  the  lircche  de  Roland.      Let  me 
describe  in  a  few  words  the  Breche  de  Roland.     A 
rocky    wall    from    400    to   700  feet  high,   extends 
nearly  east  and  west,  <iividing    France  from  Spain. 
Nearly   in  the  centre  of  this  gigantic  barrier,  is  a 
breach  or  gap  more   than  200  feet  wide,  the  most 
majestic  gate  that  ever   led  from  one  country  into 
another  ;  and  above  this  gigantic  barrier,  the  towers 


of  Marbore'  rise  like  enormous  watch-towers.  Be- 
sides the  Breche  de  Rolan<l,  there  are  two  oj)enings, 
or  holes  in  the  wall  of  rock,  situated  near  the  two 
extremities;  and  the  uh-'l.  has  the  appesirance  of 
such  a  fortitieation  as  g.-ds  ml-ht  have  raised,  and 
garrisoned  with  giants.  ' 

It  was  impossible  to  v\alk  straight  to  the  breach,  j 
l)ecause  the  rays  of  the  southern  sun,  pouring  j 
always  through'  the  gap,  had  formed  a  deep  and 
impa'ssalile  hollow  in  the  snow  ;  and  1  found  it 
necessarv,  therefore,  to  make  a  circuit  of  the  hol- 
low, and'pass  under  the  rock  to  gain  the  side  of  the 
breach.  I  now  stoo<l  in  the  lireche  de  Roland— 
I^-anee  on  one  side,  and  Spain  on  the  other.  The 
whole  extent  of  Arragon  lay  below  ;  and  as  the 
Breche  de  Roland  is  occasionally  visible  from  Sara- 
gossa,  Saragossa  was  therefore,  within  my  horizon, 
although  invisii)le. 

I  in(iuired  of  th(>  guide,  while  we  were  seated  in 
the  breach,  if  many  persons  mounted  to  this  spot  ? 
He  said,  scarcely  any  one.  I  told  him  the  fault  was 
partly  his  own,  l)y  magnifying  so  much  the  dilHcul- 
ties  a*nd  dangers  of  the  ascent.  He  said,  the  fault 
began  with  M.  Ramond,  (the  French  geological 
writer  on  the  Pyrenees),  and  that  he  did  little  more 
than  repeat  what  M.  Ramond  had  said.  This,  1 
told  him,  might  possibly  be  true  ;  that,  in  future, 
he  would  do  wisely  to  tell  hmlthti  travellers,  that 
they  might,  without  any  ditticulty,  mount  to  the 
lireche  de  Roland  ;  upon  wiiich  he  was  plc>ased  to 
pay  a  coin|ilinient  to  my  prowess,  an<l  added,  that 
scarcely  any  but  invalids  visited  the  ami)hitheatre, 
and  that,  therefore,  he  might  as  well  continue  to 
tell  his  old  tale,  because,  however  he  might  change 
it,  none  of  them  could  mount  the  Breche  de  Ro- 
land. 

1  continued  seated  about  an  hour  in  the  Breche 
de  Roland,  of  course  not  forgetting  to  put  one  foot 
in  Spain,  and  then  began  to  retrace  my  steps.  The 
descent,  I  need  scarctly  say,  was  rather  more  peril- 
ous than  the  ascent,  especially  as  the  sun  had  now 
great  power  ;  and  fragments  of  snow  and  ice  were 
therefore  more  likely  to  detacli  themselves.  How- 
ever, I  reached  safely  the  amphitheatre  from  which 
I  had  set  out.  This  had  been,  at  all  events,  a 
fatiguing  day  ;  and  this  evening  1  spent  no  time 
wandering  by  the  river-side,  but  speedily  enjoyed 
the  comforts'of  a  substantial  supper,  and  a  tolerable 
bed. 

Next  morning,  after  a  very  early  breakfast,  1 
left  (javarnie,  and  again  traversing  the  rei/rada, 
I  reached  (ledro,  about  nine  o'clock.  This  was  the 
jour  de  fife  in  the  valley  of  lle<x?,  and  without  stop- 
ping in  (iedro,  I  turned  to  the  right.  The  valley 
of  Heas  is  as  wild  as  the  Peyrada  ;  ruins  are  t)iled 
upon  ruins,  and  there  is  scarcely  one  trace  of  culti- 
vation. As  I  walked  along,  1  overtook,  or  was 
overtaken  by,  many  peasants  and  mountaineers, 
hastening  to  pay  their  adorati(»ns  to  the  Virgin  ;  and 
when  I  came  within  sight  of  the  chapel,  I  saw  several 
hundreds  defiling  along  the  sides  of  the  mountains 
towards  the  chai)el,  the  hymn  which  they  were  sing- 
ing in  chorus  sounding  strangely  wild  in  this  desolate 
vallev.  About  300  yards  before  arriving  at  the  cha- 
pel, all  took  off  their  shoes,  and  walked  bare-footed 
to  the  chai»el — a  penance  certainly,  since  it  was 
anvthing  but  smooth  turf  over  which  they  had  to 
walk  ;  and  I  noticed  afterwards,  by  the  lameness 
and  halting  step  of  some,  that  the  pilgrimage  had 
not  been  performed  with  impunity.     Every  one  on 


CHAP.  XXXII.] 


JOURNEY  TO  CAUTERETS. 


97 


reaching  the  cha])el  jierfomied   the  usual  acts  of 
devotion — praying,  kneeling,  and  kissing  the  statue 
of  the  Virgin.     But   the  most  intei'esting  i>art  of 
the  scene  was  after  the  pilgrimage  was  made.     The 
mountaineers  then  retired  in  groups  behind  some 
of  the  neighbouring  rocks,  the  men  to  put  on  their 
slioes,  and  the  women  to  put  on  both  their  slioes 
and  their  stockings.     Ail  then  gave  themselves  up 
to  innocent  mirth  ;  and  l)y-and-by,  seating  them- 
selves at  a  little  disUmce  from  the  chapel,  they  pro- 
duced their  stores,  and  feasted  with  the  simplicity, 
and  no  doubt  with  the  appetites,  of  mountaineers. 
Every  one  was  neatly  dressed  ;  and  although  I  did 
not  remark  much  striking  beauty  among  the  girls, 
there  ai)peared  much  good  humour  and  attractive 
modesty.     1   accepted  the  invitation  of  one  of  the 
parties,  the  first  of   the   many  who   would   have 
otf'ei"ed,  to  join  in  their  repast ;  and  they  were  not 
less  sparing   in  their  hospitalities,  because    I   had 
not    walked    bare-footed,    and    kissed    the    Virgin. 
Thev  seemed  a  simple  and  contented  race,  witli  no 
greater  share  of  supei'stition   than   might   be    ex- 
pected.   After  the  repast  had  been  concluded,  every 
one  made  a  circuit  to  the  Ca'dlau  de  la  linUlt,  an 
enormous  block  of  fallen  rock,  consecrated   by  the  | 
ci'edulity   of    the    mounUiineers,    and   every    one 
broke  off  a  small  fragment  as  a  relic  ;  and  having 
finished  the  day  with  acts  of  ]>iety,  the  mountain- 
jiaths  were  again  scattered  with  the  pilgrims  wend- 
ing homewards,  not  now  singing  a  pious  hymn,  but 
filling  the  valley   with   their   innocent   glee ;  and 
having  seen  all,  1  took  the  i^oad  to  Gedro.     There 
was  once  a  lake  in  the  valley  of  Heas  ;  but  it  burst 
its  bounds,  and  has  not  been  formed  again.     There 
was  nothing  to  detain  me  at  Gedro,  and  I  accord- 
ingly retraced  my  steps  to  St.  Sauveur,  with  de- 
lightful recollections  of  my  journey,  and  enjoying 
as  much  as  before  the  interesting  scenes  through 
which  I  had  already  passed. 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 

JOURNEY  TO  CAUTERETS — CAUTERETs 

Journey  across  the  Mountains — Lakes  of  the  Pyrenees — A 
Night  in  a  Hut— Arrival  at  Cauterets — Situation  of  Cau- 
terets — Baths,  and  Medicinal  Waters — The  Gave  de  Cau- 
terets— Return  to  St.  Sauveur  by  the  Vignemale  and 
Gavarnie. 

There  is  only  one  road  to  Cauterets.  I  had  al- 
ready, in  travelling  from  Argeles  to  Luz,  passed 
the  ])oint  where  it  branches  off  at  Pierrefitte  ;  and, 
beinjj  unwilling  to  retrace  the  road  down  the  defile 
of  Luz,  1  resolved  to  attempt  a  passage  across  the 
mountains  from  St.  Sauveur.  I  knew  from  the 
ma])  the  general  situation  of  Cauterets  :  and,  as  I 
knew  also  that  the  distance  in  a  straight  line  could 
not  exceed  three  leagues,  1  felt  no  apprehension  of 
mistaking  the  road.  But  the  event  proved  how 
little  a  general  knowledge  of  direction  avails  us  in 
travelling  among  mountains, 

I  left  St.  Sauveur  one  delightful  morning  about 
six  o'clock,  and  without  seeking  any  path,  began 
the  ascent  of  the  mountain  which  rises  directly 
behind  the  baths  ;  and,  after  a  toilsome  walk,  I 
reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge  that  fomis  the 
western  boundary  of  the  cradle  of  Luz.  The  point 
to  which  1  had  directed  my  steps,  was  of  course  the 
lowest  part  of  the  ridge,  and  was  not  perhaps  more 


than  three  thousand  feet  above  St.  Sauveur.     I  ex- 
pected to  have  seen  the  valley  of  Cauterets  from 
the  summit  of  this  ridge  ;  but  I  only  saw  a  deep 
oblong  hollow  about  two  leagues  distant,  filled  by  a 
lake  about  half  a  league  in  length.     By  an  error  in 
my  map,  this  lake  was  not  marked  ;  and  I  mistook 
it  for  another,  which  lies  at  no  very  great  distance 
from  Cauterets,  and  which  I  ought  to  leave  on  my 
right.     I  accordingly  made  towards  the  lake,  that 
I  might  double  its  southern  extremity,  in  the  ex- 
pectation that,  after  ascending  the  next  summit,  1 
should  look  down  upon  Cauterets.     The  distance  to 
this  lake  I  found  to  be  much  greater  than  I  had 
expected  ;    for,  owing  to  several  morasses,  I   was 
obliged  to  take  a  most  circuitous  path,  and  more 
than  three  hours  elapsed  before  I  reached  the  mar- 
gin.    Although  the  Pyrenees  do  not  boast  lake- 
scenery,  there  is,  nevertheless,  a  great  number  of 
lakes  among  the  Haute?  Fijrt:nee?.     There  are  not 
fewer  altogether  than  twenty-six  ;  but  the  greater 
number  of  these  do  not  exceed  a  mile  or  two  in 
circumference,  and  are  rather  mountain-tarns  than 
lakes  ;  and  even  the  largest  of  them  scarcely  reach 
a  league  in  circumference.     With  the  exception  of 
two  or  three  of  these  lakes,  they  lie  in  mountain- 
hollows,  y^'iih  neither  cultivation  nor  picturesque 
.scenery  around  them.  Some  are  indeed  suri-ounded 
l)y  sublimity,  such  as  the  Lake  d'Oncet  ;  but  the 
water  is  but  a  very  secondary  feature  in  the  scene. 
The  lake  which  I  skirted  in  this  morning's  walk,  I 
afterwards  found  is  called  the  Lac  d'Ardiden.     Its 
only  feature  was  solitary  wildness  ;   and  its  only 
ornament  the  box-tree,  which  hei-e,  as  elsewhere  in 
the  Pyrenees,  forms  a  close  underwood. 

Before  I  turned  the  head  of  the  lake,  between 
five  and  six  hours  had  elapsed  since  leaving  St. 
Sauveur.     1  expected  to  have  reached  Cauterets 
an  hour  before  this  time  ;  but  I  had  no  doubt,  that, 
from  the  summit  of  the  next  ridge,  I  sliould  see 
Cauterets  below  me.     I    accordingly  struck  in  a 
right  line  fi-om  the  head  of  the  lake,  to  ascend  the 
neighbouring  range.     The  brilliant  sun  and  serene 
atmosphere  that  had  so  pleasantly  ushered  in  the 
morning,  had  long  since  become  shrouded  ;  and  a 
most  threatening  darkness  had  already  spread  over 
the  sky.     There  was  every  foreboding  of  a  storm  ; 
and    I   made   all   possible  haste  to  surmount  the 
height,  that  I  might  arrive  at  Cauterets  before  it 
should  commence.    I  was  therefore  not  a  little  dis- 
appointed, when,  upon  gaining  the  summit  of  the 
ridge,  a  wilder  scene  than  I  had  already  passed 
through  lay  before  me,  and  Cauterets  was  nowhere 
visible  ;    and,  to  add  to  my  disappointment,  the 
sudden  illumination  of  the  heavens,  and  a  deep  roll 
of  thunder,  was  almost  immediately  succeeded  by 
some  heavy  drops,  which  I  well  knew  would  soon 
ripen  into  one  of  those  torrents  that  descend  on 
mountain-regions.     Where  Cauterets  might  be,  I 
could  not  conceive  ;  but  it  was  evident  that  I  had 
mistaken  my  way.     Whether  it  lay  before  me,  or 
to  the  right  or  the  left,  1  knew  not.     In  the  mean 
time,  wishing  to  shelter  myself  from  the  storm,  I 
made  towards  some  rocks  that  lay  in  the  next  hol- 
low ;  and  had  hardly  got  under  the  shelter  of  the 
rock,  when  the  storm  came  down  in  good  eani€«t. 
Not  a  drop  could  reach  me  where  I  lay  ;  but,  after 
remaining  more  than  an  hour,  the  rain  had  not  in 
the  smallest  degree  subsided.     The  day  was  wear- 
ing away  ;  and,  for  aught  I  knew,  I  might  be  yet 
many  leagues  from  Cauterets.     At  length,  bi-aving 

H 


,  *1 


98 


I  AL  lERETS. 


[chap.  XXXII. 


tlio  stni-m,  T  left  my  shelter,  takinp  at  a  venture  a 
direc-tioii  a  little  nu)re8<»utlierly,an«l  walking  almost 
ancle-deep  in  water  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the 
torrent  that  still  |>()m-ed  from  the  skies  drenched 
me  in  a  few  miiuitcs. 

1  liad  walked  since  morninpj  without  havincj  seen 
a  single  cottage  ;  Lut,  after  continuing  my  journey 
ahout  an  hour  long«r,  1  descried  a  hut  at  the  ex- 
tn-mitv  of  a  small  lateral  valley  to  the  left,  about  a 
mile  distant  ;  and,  as  the  sky  grew  darki>r  on  the 
horizon,  although  the  rain  had  in  some  degree  sub- 
sided, and  as  1  had  undoubtedly  waudrred  from  my 
road,  I  turned  into  the  vallry  to  seek  shelter  at  tlu- 
cottage.  1  had  ho|)es  that  it  might  |>rov»'  a  C'agot 
hut,  which,  from  the  solitariness  of  the  situation, 
seemed  not  improbable  :  but  1  afterwards  learned, 
that  none  of  the  Cagot  f'aniily  are  found  in  the  val- 
levs  that  lie  in  this  direction. 

'iJefore  reacliing  the  cottage,  the  storm  had  re- 
connnenced  with  greater  fury  than  ever  ;  and,  in  a 
situation   that   refpun-d   fire,   victuals  and   rest,   I 
entered  a  hut  that  1  fear.'d  might  contain  no  mate- 
rials for  eitb.er  of  the  three.      1    found  a  middle- 
aged  num,  a  girl  about  sixteen  years  old,  and  two 
boys  in  the  hut  ;  and  although  the  iunuitts  seemed 
marvellouslv  astonislnd  at  the  entrance  of  a  stran- 
ger, 1  was  \\v\\  received,  as   1    had  always  been  in 
^i!vcrv — even  the  j)Oorest — hut   into  which    1   ever 
entered  in  the  Pyrenees.     The  cottage  was  not  so 
utterlv  destitute  of  comforts  as  I  had  feare<l  it  might 
be.     The  girl  lighted  a  box-wood  fire  ;  the  moun- 
taineer lent  me  a  shee])-skin  cloak,  until  my  own 
clothes  were  dried  ;  and,  after  the  fire  was  blazing, 
bnad,  cheese,  and  milk,  were   placed   before   me. 
The  i>easant  was  a   widower,  and  these  were  his 
three   children.     They    were    poorly  dressed,  and 
seemed  scantily  fed  ;  and  the  condition  of  this  re- 
mote family  nnght  be  taken  as  a  fair  example  of 
th(>   condition   of  the  i)oorer  mountaineers  of  the 
Pyrenees.      The  property  of  the   juasant  consisted 
of"  two  cows  and  three  goats.     A  snuill  meadow  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  hut  was  fertilized,  ami 
allotte(rt(>  rye  ;  and  about  a  rood  ()f  land  was  laid 
out   in   ]>otatoes  and  cabbages.     The  peasant  ami 
his   family   consumed    the    whole    produce   of  the 
animals.  "  Meat  of  no  kind  ever  entered  the  cabin  ; 
but   the  lake   whitdj  1  had  ]»assed  occasionally  sup- 
plied a  few  fish,  which  were  scarce,  however  ;  and 
the  lake  was,  besitles,  a  league  and  a  half  distant. 
A   kind  of  cheese,  like  some  of  the  ])oor  Scotch 
cheeses,  was  made  from  the  goat's  milk  ;  and  the 
sale  of  this  to  the  lower  orders  at  Cauterits,  was 
the  only  source  of  the   money  necessai-y  for  the 
purchas'e  of  clothes,  and  whatever  else  is  not  pro- 
duced by  cows  and  goats. 

It  niav  be  suiiposi<l,  that  one  of  the  first  iii<|uii'ies 
I  made  was  respecting  my  n»ad  ;  and  1  found  that 
I  was  n<»w  nearly  as  far  from  Canterets  as  I  had 
been  when  I  lef't  St.  Sauveur.  1  ba<l  wandered 
far  to  the  south  ;  and,  in  ]>lace  of  doubling  the 
south  side  of  the  lake,  I  ought  to  have  passed  its 
northern  extremity.  It  was  now  past  lour  in  the 
afternoon  ;  and  to' have  set  out  within  a  few  lioiu^s 
of  sunset,  across  a  eomitry  where  there  was  no 
road,  and  without  any  certain  knowledge  of  «lirec- 
tion,  would  have  been,  if  n(»t  hazardous,  at  least 
disagreeable  ;  and  1  therefore  resolved  to  i)ass  the 
ni^lit  in  the  but.  No  one  can  be  said  to  fan'  ill 
who  has  a  lariro  wooden  ladle  of  new  milk  befori- 
him,  and  a  loaf  of  rye  bread  ;  and  no  one  can  be 


sjiid  to  pass  a  bad  night  who  is  in  good  health,  and 
who  has  a  clean  sheep-skin  to  lie  upon,  in  the  mild 
temperature    of  the  south   of  France.     All   these 
luxuries    I    enjoyed.     The   rain   ceased  about   six 
o'clock,  and  1  walked  with  the  peasant's  family  to 
the  neighbouring  mountain— s:iw  the  cows  milked 
—supped  heartily— slei)t  soundly— and  was  awoke 
])v  th(^  owner  of  the  hut  soon  after  day-break.      He 
resolutely  refused  any  compensation  for  my  enter- 
tainment ;  but  one  of  the  boys,  wlio  accompanied 
me  to  the  top  of  a  neighbouring  acclivity,  to  point 
out  the  road,  was  less  stui-dy  in  his  independence. 
1  found  no  ditllculty  in  tlii>  morning's  journey  ;  for, 
after  i»assing  a  mountain-ridge,  1   descended   into 
the  vallev  .t   l.utour,  which  is  a  continuation  of  the 
defile  of  (auteiH'ts.      A  road  lay  along  the  bank  of 
the    small  stream   that    Hows   .b-wn    to   Canterets  ; 
and,  following  this  i>atli,  1  arrixed,  after  about  two 
houi-s'  walk,  in  the  hollow,  or  basin,  in  tlie  bottom 
of  which  lie  the  village  and  baths  of  Canterets. 

Canterets  is  a  fashionable  itlace  ;  and  therefore 
a  foot-ti-aveller,  arriving  without  even  the  excuse 
of  a  i)edestrian — a  knapsack  upon  his  back— could 
scarcely  expect  a  very  cordial  reception  :  besides, 
]iedestrians  are  unknown  in  the  Pvn  nees.  Can- 
terets, too,  was  s(»  full  of  company,  that  there  was 
no  temptation  to  hold  out  a  flag  of  invitation  ;  and 
1  should  have  found  ditficulty  in  finding  accommo- 
dation, if  a  uMMitleman  whom  1  had  known  in  I'aris 
had  not  accidentally  passed, just  at  the  monientwhen 
I  was  told,  for  the' third  time,  that  there  was  not  a 
chamber  at  my  disposal.  This  recognition,  how- 
ever, gave  a  new  turn  t(»  my  affairs  ;  and  I  obtain<Ml 
accommodation,  at  the  exorbitant  rate  of  seven 
francs  for  a  bed. 

The  situation  of  Canterets  is  striking,  and,  ex- 
cepting St.  Sauveur,  preferable,  in  my  opinion,  to 
that  of  any  of  the  other  laths  1  have  yet  spoken  of. 
There  is  a  small  triangular  holl(»w,  on  all  sides 
dominated  by  lofty  mountains — an  enamel  of  mea- 
dow, wood,and  little  fields— like  a  miniature  picture 
set  in  a  vast  rugged  frame.  Here  the  \illage  and 
baths  lie  ;  the  former  is  not  deserted  dui-ing  the 
winter,  like  Bareges,  but  always  contains  an  indi- 
genous population  of  about  (JOO  or  }{(>()  ])ers«)ns  ; 
and,  in  the  buildings  appropriated  to  the  reception 
of  strangers,  nearly  a  thousand  persons  can  be  ac- 
couMiiodated. 

The  medicinal  springs  of  Cauterets,  excepting 
one,  called  the  Jjnizdiid,  are  situated  at  some  little 
distance  from  the  villagt%upon  the  sitle  of  the  in(»un- 
tain  that  rises  to  the  i-ast  of  it.  One  of  these — the 
j)rincii>al  of  them— is  called  Ctmr  ;  of  course,  from 
the  tradition  that  Ciesar  used  its  watei-s.  Another 
of  the  springs  was  ]»atronized  by  Margaret,  sister 
of  Francis  1.,  and  grandmother  of  Henry  the 
Fourth,  who  took  refuge  fnmi  the  tumult  of  cities 
and  courts  in  the  solitude  of  the  Pyrenees.  Besides 
these,  there  are  eight  or  ten  other  fountains  ;  but 
several  of  them  aiv  yet  in  a  state  of  nature.  Al- 
most all  of  them  are  pictures(iuely  sitiuited  among 
rocks  and  wateifalls.  Canterets  possesses  sevei-al 
of  the  agrtmehs  of  Bagneres,  with  more  interesting 
and  excitini^  scenery  ;  and,  placed  at  least  PJOO 
feet  higlur  than  Ikigncres,  its  air  is  more  invi- 
gorating, and  the  heats  of  summer  less  felt.  There 
is  little  doubt,  that  baths  will  always  be  found  the 
most  efhcacions,  where  the  scenery  is  the  most 
vari«(l  and  pleasing,  and  the  air  the  purest  ;  and 
that  Rousseau  was  right  in  thinking  "  qu'aucune 


CHAP.  XXXIII.] 


JOURNEY  TO  BAGNERES  DE  LOUCHON. 


99 


agitation  violente,  aucune  maladie  do  vapeurs  ne 
pourrait  rt^sister  contre  un  pareil  se'jour  prolong^  ; 
et  il  s'^tonnait  que  des  bains  de  I'air  salutaire  et 
bienfaisant  des  montagnes  ne  fussent  pas  un  des 
grands  remedes  de  la  me'decine  et  de  la  morale." 

Palsy,  rheumatism,  and  stomach-comj)laints,  are 
the  three  classes  of  disordei's  that  are  said  to  yield 
most  readily  to  the  watei's  of  Cauterets.  The  tem- 
perature of  the  springs  ranges  from  31°  to  40'  of 
Reaumur.  Cauterets  is  the  most  expensive  of  the 
Pyrenean  watering-places  ;  because  the  concoui'se 
of  strangei's  is  always  pressing  upon  the  accommo- 
dation ;  because  the  country  around  is  totally  uni)ro- 
ductive  ;  and  because  some  eminent  persons  having 
selected  Cauterets  as  a  residence  during  the  season, 
it  has  ac(juired  a  distinction  as  a  place  of  fashionable 
resort,  besides  being  a  refuge  for  the  infirm.  If  Cau- 
terets were  nothing  but  a  village,  with  its  few  mea- 
dows and  copses, and  its  flocks  and  inountaineei*s — if 
it  had  these,  without  the  dts'i'jriiiu  /is  of  a  watering- 
place — its  invalids  and  ])alan(iuins — its  air  apprtti 
— its  fine  houses,  and  finely-dressed  peoj)le — how 
charming  a  spot  would  it  be  for  the  disciple  of  Isaak 
Walton  !  Wn'  the  (Jave  of  Cauterets  is  a  stream,  the 
sight  of  which  would  make  the  heart  of  an  angler 
leap  for  joy.  It  is  neither  too  large  nor  too  small, 
neither  too  limj)id  nor  too  dark,  neither  too  ra])id 
nor  too  slow —  shaded  occasionally  by  high  banks, 
but  not  shaded  l)y  trees.  But  it  possesses  two 
drawbacks  nearly  fatal  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  tho- 
rough angler.  The  fish  are  so  numerous  as  to 
ensure  a  nibble  at  every  cast  ;  and  so  simple- 
minded  and  credulous,  that  every  nibble  proves  a 
take.  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  add — since  I  am 
sj)eaking  to  sportsmen — that  the  trout  of  the  Cave 
de  Cauterets  are  admirable,  ^/^vy/ic  in  the  frying-pan. 

1  remained  only  one  day  at  Cauterets,  and  durin<r 
that  day  visited  all  the  favourite  promenades  of  the 
batlu'rs,  convalescents,  and  pleasui'e-seekers.  The 
following  day,  1  left  Cauterets  to  return  to  St.  Sau- 
veur,  by  a  very  circuitous  and  unfre(iuented  route. 
1  traversed  the  valley  of  Lutour  up  to  its  head  at 
the  foot  of  Mount  Vigneniale— one  of  the  highest 
mountains (»f  the  Pyrenees — a  wild,  but  interesting 
route.  At  the  foot  of  the  ni(»untain  there  are  three 
small  cottages,  in  one  of  which  1  procured  a  guide, 
to  conduct  me  across  the  northern  shoulder  of  the 
mountain,  into  the  valley  d'Ossoue,  which  leads  to 
•  iavarnie.  This  was  altogether  a  journey  of  nearly 
nine  katiues  :  but  I  had  left  Cauterets  so  early,  that 
1  reached  (Javarnie  several  hours  before  sunset  ; 
and  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  did  not  prevent  me 
from  walking  again  to  the  amphitheatre  de  Mar- 
bore,  and  spending  another  hour  in  its  wild  and 
sublime  precincts,  i  was  almost  tempted  to  mount 
again  to  the  Breche  de  Roland  ;  but  sunset  dis- 
inisse<l  this  ti'mi»tation  ;  and  1  returned  to  the  inn, 
which  ]  left  next  morning,  to  walk  to  St.  Sauveur, 
where  1  arrived  before  mid-day. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

JOURNEY  TO  BAGNERES  IH:  LOUCllON — BAGNERES  DE 

LOICHON. 
The  ideal  and  the  real  of  Travelling — Journey  to  Arreau — 
Marbriere — Arreau,  and  the  Valley  of  the  Aure — The 
Family  of  Arnia.:,niac — Journey  to  l{a;,'iieres  de  Louchon — 
Tlie  Valley  of  Louchon— The  liaths— The  Waters,  and 
Opinions  of  Fhybicians— Visit  to  the  Lakes  of  Seculejo, 
and  the  Esspingo. 

1    WAS  now    about  to  take  leave   of   St.  Sauveur 


for  the  last  time.  I  proposed  to  cross  the  Tour- 
malet  to  St.  Marie,  and  by  Arreau  to  Bagneres  de 
Louchon,  and  from  thence  to  return  by  Bagneres 
de  Bigorre  and  Lourdes  to  Pan. 

I  know  few  occupations  more  agreeable  than 
sitting  down  with  a  good  map,  and  tracing  one's 
future  route  through  a  country  which  is  yet  un- 
travelled  by  us.  I  suppose  every  ti'aveller  knows 
this  enjoyment.  For  my  own  part,  I  reflect  with  ecjual 
pleasure  upon  the  hours  1  have  spent  in  meditating 
a  journey — in  examining  my  maps — tracing  my 
route — marking  distances — and  calculating  time 
and  expenses,  as  upon  the  events  of  the  journey 
itself.  With  his  map  before  him,  and  his  pencil  in 
his  haud,  sunshine  always  illumines  the  traveller's 
path.  Neither  heat  nor  cold  interfere  with  the 
comforts  of  his  journey  ;  the  trees  afibrd  a  pleasant 
shade,  and  the  mountain-breeze  blows  cool  upon 
his  forehead  ;  the  iims  are  neither  dirtv  nor  ill- 
provided  ;  and  no  one  overreaches  him,  'Tis  truly 
a  charming  excursion  which  he  makes  on  the  maj> ; 
'tis  the  idi'jl  of  travelling — the  cream  whipped  off, 
and  beat  up  ;  he  has  it  all  his  own  way  ;  he  can 
proportion  the  distance  of  the  journey  to  his  strength 
or  his  caprice  ;  he  can  fix  the  temperature  of  the 
weatiier  ;  he  regulates  his  health,  and  even  the 
frame  of  his  mind  ;  and  he  can  dine  upon  fish, 
flesli,  or  fowl,  and  drink  vln  du  pays,  or  preniitre 
quai'dt,  just  as  he  pleases.  But  I  am  far  from  wish- 
ing to  intimidate  the  stay-at-homes,  by  leading  them 
to  suppose,  that  the  ideal  and  the  real  of  travelling 
are  always  diametrically  opi>osed.  I  doubt  whether 
a  journey  be  so  agreeable,  which  is  all  pleasure  and 
no  privation.  If  a  day's  journey  turn  out  to  be  ten 
miles  longer  than  one  expected,  with  how  much 
more  satisfaction  do  we  arrive  at  the  end  of  it  !  If 
we  have  been  half-frozen  in  crossing  a  mountain, 
how  doubly  sweet  is  the  warm  shelter  of  the  valley, 
or  the  cheerful  blaze  of  the  inn  fire  !  or,  alter  a 
meagre  breakfast  and  a  worse  dinner,  who  shall  de- 
scribe the  delights  of  an  ample  and  excellent  supper, 
or  the  joys  of  a  soft  clean  bed,  after  a  night's  tra- 
velling hi  the  diligence  ?  The  pleasure  of  every 
journey  that  I  have  made  has  far,  very  far  out- 
weighed the  pains  ;  and  if  it  be  any  test  of  the  en- 
joyment we  have  reaped  m  a  journey,  that  that 
journey  often  recurs  to  the  memory,  then  1  have 
the  most  enjoyed  those  which  have  been  the  most 
chequered  with  difficulties  and  dangers.  But  the 
pleasure  of  travelling  depends  upon  the  peculiar 
frame  of  every  man's  mhid.  Some  can  be  merry 
under  all  circumstances  ;  others  are  ever  discon- 
tented. Let  these  stay  at  home,  and  keep  to  their 
easy  chairs  and  fire-side  comforts. 

1  recollect  with  peculiar  pleasure  the  days  I  spent 
at  St.  Sauveur — my  walks  upon  the  mountain-sides 
— my  search  for  aromatic  plants — my  iriactive 
nmsings  by  the  side  of  the  Gave,  or  upon  the 
wooden  bridge  ;  and  yet  I  had  no  comforts  at  St. 
Sauveur.  1  liad  had  breakfasts — (there  was  no 
butter,  and  the  water  never  boiled) — execrable 
dhmei-s,  cold,  and  ill-cooked — a  bad  bed — and  great 
extortion.  The  system  jjursued  at  the  Pyrenean 
watering-places  is  an  unsocial  and  uncomfortable 
one.  In  place  of  public  tables,  every  one  dines  in 
his  own  room.  An  attemj)!  was  made  by  a  traUeur, 
while  1  was  at  St.  Sauveur,  to  open  a  public  table  ; 
but  1  believe  the  company  never  got  beyond  two 
kept-mistresses  and  a  gentleman's  gentleman.  This 
is  certainly  extraordinary,  since  no   people  u})on 

H  2 


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't,; 


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♦tj 


100 


JOURNEY  TO  tiAu.NLUi^  DE  LOUCHON. 


[chap,  xxxni. 


earth  an-  s<,  little  addicted  to  solitude  as  the  French. 
But  i.uhlic-  tahlefi  are  not  la  imxU ;  and  therefore, 
h.nvevtr  miu-h  a^'ainst  their  inclination,  the  trench 
uv  compelled  to  eat  their  dinners  in  solitude.  1  he 
next  room  to  mine  wa^  (K-cuined  by  a  French  gen- 
tleman, who  found  solitude  at  meals  so  irksome, 
that  he  talke<l  to  himself,  and  sung  by  turns,  almost 
the  whole  time  of  dinner. 

I  now  bade  a  tinal  farewell  to  fet.  Sauveur,  by 
senin.r   off  on  foot  for   liatxneres  de  Louchon— a 
uaekhoi-se  being  charged   with   my  portmanteau; 
and,  once  more  crossing  the  bridge  over  the  Gave, 
L   passed  thnumh    Lu/,  an<l  entered  the  valley  of 
Bare.res.   Uecdlectin-  the  eottat,M>  and  the  delicious 
milk  "at  the  fo..t  of  the  T..unnalet,  I  practised  a 
little  economy  at  Bareges,  by  purchasing  an  excel- 
lent new  loaf  to  carry  forward,  in  place  ot  paymg 
two  francs  fi)r  a  bad  breakfast   m   the  caff.       Ihe 
cotta-^e  1  found  in  its  place,  and  the  boys  ran  out  as 
before.     The  milk  was  as  delicious  as  ever,  and  1 
enioved  it  ten  times  more,  because  I  had  not  break- 
fasted.    This  1  call  i.art  of  the  art  ..f  travellmg- -- 
to  increase  luxury,  and  diminish  expense.      As   1 
a-'ain   iourneved  up  the  Toumialet,   I  was  a.most 
tempted  to  pay  a  second  visit  to  the  Pic  du  Midi, 
the  summit  was  so  free  from  va])our,and  setnied  so 
near      I  l)assed  the  Tourmalet  at  the  same  point  as 
before,    and    a-ain    <lescended    mto    the    valley    ot 
C^ampan  to  Grip,  where    1   stopt  a   little  while  for 
rest  and  refreshment,  and  reaclu-d  Samte  Mane  m 
the  afternoon.     Here  1  was  ol.li-ed  to  remain  i..r 
the  night,  because  there  is  no  inn  between  St.  Mane 

and  Arreau.  i         •  i 

It  is  at  St.  Marie  that  the  traveller,  who  wishes 

to  reaidi  Ba^neres  de  Loucdion,  leaves  the  valley  ot 

Campan,  and  ascen<ls   the  valley  of  the  Adour  oi 

Aure  •  and   next  mornin-:   betimes    1    was   on  my 

road  to  Arreau.     At  tii-st,  the  valley  of  Aure  differs 

but  little  from  the  valley  of  Campan.      It  is  e.piaUy 

fertile  and  rhmh'.   About  a  league  and  a  halt  trom  St. 

Marie   the  "uide  ])einted  out  to  me,  on  the  left  hantl, 

the  verv  smlill  vallev  of  Mnrhrli^rr.  which  contains 

the  valuable  marbles  of  Campan.     This  marble  was 

formerly  worked,  but   is  now  abandoned,      it  is  a 

very  beautiful  marble  ;    but  has   biH-n  discovered 

to  be  unfitted  for  exposure  to  the  weather,  and  is 

therefore  only  use<l  in  ornamenting  the  mtenor  ot 

edifices.       Tl"u>    cause    ..f    its    suseeptil)ihty    t«)    the 

attn.-spheric  changes,  is  the  portion  of  argil  which 

enters  into  its  composition. 

After  leaving    this   spot,    the    scenery    entirely 
chan«'es.   We  enter  among  the  pine-forests  ot  Aure, 
and  tnivei-se  a  narrow  valley,  sombre  and  unculti- 
vate.l,  leaving  the  Ph-  d\lrb\zon  on  the   nght,  an<l 
passing  at  m.  great  distance  from  it.     Throughout 
all  the  vallev  the  sun  never  reaches  the  path.      It 
is  intercepted  bv  the  pine  that  skirts  the  road  ;  and, 
in  perfect  unison  with  the  coolness  of  the  scenery 
around,  a  clear  fountain,  wt-lling  from  a  rock,  re- 
poses, deep  and  clear,  in  a  basin  below.      From  the 
base  of  the   Pic  d'Arbi;ton,  a  path  leads  across  the 
shoulder  of  the  mountain  :  and  after  about  an  hour  s 
walk,  I  saw  the  valley  of  Arreau  at  my  feet.     Not 
many  views  in  the  Pyrenees  are  tiner  than   that 
which  looks  down  up<.n  the  valley  of  Aure.      it  is 
verdant,  almost  as  Urseni  in  Uri  ;  but  its  verdure 
is  diversified  by  cultivated   fields,  and  it  is  skirted 
bv  old  forests,'  which  hang  ujion  the  mountains  ; 
and  the  back-ground  is  a  magnificent  assemblage  ot 
peaks— rockv,  snowy,  and  rising  in  the  most  fan- 


tastic fomis.  From  this  point  1  descended  mto  the 
vallev,  where  I  was  enclosed  among  ^^-woods  ; 
and, 'passing  through  some  of  the  sweetest  little 
meadows  I  have  ever  seen,  I  soon  after  entered  the 

town  of  Arfeau.  x«/.  i    „„^ 

The  situation  of  this  little  town  is  beautiful,  and 
the  surrounding  scenery  i>artakes  largely  ot  that 
union  of  beauty,   picturesqueness,  and  sublimity, 
which  I  have  already  more  than  once  mentioned  aj 
the  characteristic  of   Pyrenean  scenery.     I  could 
easily  have  proceeded  to  Bagneres  de  Louchon  be- 
fore ni<Tht,  for   I   had  not  walked  more  than  four 
leauues":  but  I  was  desirous  of  visiting  the  rmned 
chateau  of  the  counts  of  Armagnac,  whose  history 
in  connexion  with  the  valley  of  Aure  is  so  remark- 
able     Nothin"  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  road 
'to  this  chateaJ  ;  for  the  valley  of  Arreau  contains 
en  petU,  the  whole  m^feriH  of  beauty.     The  ca.st le 
stands  upon  the  smumit  of  one  of  those  wooded  hi  Is 
that  sprinkle  this  vall.-y.     It  was  only  (me  ot  the 
many  ehat.aux  that  belonged  to  the   lords  of  Ar- 
ma-iiac,  whose  i.ossessions  included  many  valleys 
ancf  probably  not  the  most  remarkable  of  them.      I 
climbed  to  it  by  a  cinMiitous,  tortuous  path,  through 
fir-woods  and  box,  an.l  soon  reached  the  rum     One 
hi'di  t.nver  yet  stands  almost  peHect  ;  and  1  suc- 
ceeded in  r^ehing  the  top,  from  which  the  h>rds  of 
Aure,  in  former  times,  looked  down  upon  their  sub- 
ject <lomain,   once   the  scene  of  ravage  and  blood- 
shed,—now  a  (luiet  and  bapi)y  valley. 

The  history  of  few  families  is  more  rem;n-kablo 
than  that  of  tlie  family  of  Anna-nac.  The  fall  of  the 
last  lord  and  his  family  originated  m  his  cnme.  He 
becam."  enamoured  of  his  sister  Isabella,  was  ex- 
communicated by  the  pope  in  conse.iuence,  and  ot 
course,  failing  in  his  application  for  a  dispensation 
to  marry  her,  he  forged  a  dispensation,  and  cele- 
brated the  incestuous  nuptials.  Charles  yll-» 
then  kin.r  of  Fraiuv,  endeavoured  to  recall  him 
fi-om  his  crimes,  and  the  pope  again  excommuni- 
cated him  ;  but  the  count  Armagnac  resist.'.!  km.l 


instances  an.l  d.'fied   force;  and  s..on  afterxviinb 
connecting    himself  with    the    insurrection   of   tlie 
Dauphin,  he  was  attacked  by  the  .luk<-  ..f  Clennont 
with  an  anny  under  his  omman.l.     But  gui  ty  pas- 
sion had  efiemini/.ed  his  min.l  ;    and  in    p  ace   <.t 
resisting  the  invasi.»n,  he  abandoned  his  d(miam, 
and  fied  with  Isabella  to  the  protection  of  his  rela- 
tive, the  king  of  Arragon.     He  was  th-n  summoned 
bv  the  parliament,  an.l,  having   been   rash   en.mgh 
to  appear,  he  was  arnste.l  an.l   impns..ned.      And 
s.»on  after,  having  succeeded  m  escaping  from  cap- 
tivity, sentence  of  perpetual  banishment  was  passed 
upon  him,  and  his  domain  was  f..rteited  :  but  the 
yall(>y  of  Aure,  an.l   three  other  valleys,  were  ex- 
cepted from  the  forfeiture,  and  given  as  a  dowry  to 

his  sister. 

The  once  powerful  and  proud  count  of  Annagnac 
^vas  now  reduced  t..  the  deepest  destitution  ;  and 
impelled,  as  we  may  presume,  by  remorse,  he  begged 
his  way  to  Rome,  to  ask  an  absolution  for  himselt 
and  his  sister,  which  was  granted,  upon  condition 
that  she  should  ritire  to  the  monastery  of  M..unt 
Sion  at  Barcelona,  and  upon  conditi.uis  still  I'^rder 
for  himself.  But  at  this  time  Louis  XI.  ascended 
the  French  throne,  and  the  cunt  <rArmagnac  was 
restoretl  by  him  to  his  former  rank,  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  his  possessions.  He  now  married  the 
daughter  of  the  compte  de  Foix,  and  the  past  was 
foriiotten. 


CHAP,  xxxiri.] 


BAGNERES  DE  LOUCHON. 


101 


But  the  restless  and  criminal  count  engaged  in 
new  plots  against  his  benefactor  ;  and,  after  having 
twice  received  pardon  for  treasonable  attempts,  iiis 
repeated  revolts  at  length  drew  upon  him  such  anger 
of  his  king  as  was  not  to  be  pacified.  The  cardinal 
d'Alby  attacked  his  capital  :  and,  after  a  siege  of 
two  months'  duration,  during  which  the  count  re- 
covered his  courage,  his  son  by  Isabella,  after 
performing  prodigies  of  valour,  was  killed  in  a 
sortie,  and  the  count  surrendered  ;  but  the  same 
day,  as  he  was  rising  from  the  holy  communion,  he 
wjis  assassinated.  Scenes  of  blood  and  massacre 
followed  ;  his  domains  were  ravished,  his  towns 
jtillaged,  his  wife,  the  daughter  of  the  count  de  Foix, 
then  pregnant,  was  thr.iwn  into  prison,  and  j)oi- 
soned.  Almost  all  his  friends  perished  under  the 
axe  of  the  executioner.  The  count's  brother  was 
imprisoned  in  the  Bastile  ;  and  not  a  remnant  of 
the  family  of  Armagnac  remained. 

It  is  a  curious,  and,  1  belie vi',  unexplained  fact, 
that  the  once  guilty  Isabella  was  in  the  city  when 
it  was  besieffed.  It  is  no  whei*e  recorded  why  she 
left  the  monastery,  where  she  had  buried  herself, 
to  miiiirle  a^^ain  in  the  active  scenes  of  life.  She 
was  saved  tr.)m  the  massacre  ;  for,  a  few  months 
afterwards,  j»revious  to  taking  the  veil  in  the  mo- 
nastery of  Mount  Sion,  she  made  over  to  Gaston  of 
Lyon,  as  a  reward  f.u'  having  preserved  her  life, 
the  territory  of  Aure,  and  the  other  three  valleys. 
But  the  inha!)itaats  of  the  valleys  would  not  receive 
this  sovereign  ;  and,  putting  themselves  under  the 
l)rotectioii  of  Louis  XL,  the  d.»!iiiirums  of  tlie  fallen 
family  of  Armagnac  were  finally  annexed  to  the 
French  crown  in  1475. 

I  remained  about  an  hour  among  the  ruins  of 
the  chateau,  and  then  retraced  my  steps  to  the 
town  ;  and  next  morning  I  again  left  it  for 
litijneres  dc  Louchon.  The  distance  is  about  five 
leagues,  and  it  is  a  mountain-path  the  whole  way, 
and  one  of  the  most  interesting  mountain-paths  1 
had  travelled,  either  in  the  Pyrenees,  or  in  any  other 
country.  There  are  few  feelings  more  delightful, 
more  joyous,  than  those  which  accompany  us  up  a 
steep  mountain-ascent  ;  and  yet  there  may  be  some 
who  are  insensible  to  such  enjoyment,  or  who  may 
never  have  had  an  opp.ulunity  of  tasting  it.  The 
cause  of  the  sensations  which  we  experience  in 
climbing  mountain-paths,  might  perhaps  admit  of  a 
philosophical  dis.^uisition.  Some  would  say,  it  is  to 
be  ascribed  to  the  inclination  of  our  nature  for 
overcoming  difficulties  ;  but  fur  my  own  part,  1 
believe  this  has  little  to  do  with  the  feeling  of  enjoy- 
ment. Perhaps  the  mountain-air  is  the  more  natu- 
ral source  of  these  feelings.  Upon  this  journey, 
nearly  half-way  between  AiToau  and  Bagneres  de 
Louciion,  the  department  (hs  llautes  Fi/rent-es  has 
its  termination  ;  but  the  nominal  boundary  is  not 
the  limit  of  the  high  mountains  ;  on  the  contrary, 
all  the  way  towards  Bagnei-es  de  Louchon,  the 
snows  of  the  Maladatta — the  highest  mountain  of 
the  Pyrenees — rose  before  me.  But  the  Ma/adetta 
is  in  Spain,  and  th.'refore  could  not  have  influenced 
the  boundaries  of  the  French  departments. 

A  short  time  after  passing  this  boundary,  a 
hunter  struck  into  the  path  from  one  of  the  valleys 
on  the  right,  carrying  an  izard  ;  and  I  overtook 
him.  He  Was  an  athletic  young  man,  dressed  in 
light  breeches  and  gaiters  of  black  cloth,  and  a 
small  round  hat,  the  shape  of  which  he  had  bor- 
rowed from  Catalunia.      I   inquired  of  him  where 


he  intended  carrying  the  izard,  and  was  so  great 
an  epicure  as  to  resolve  upon  takint;  up  my  quar- 
ters in  the  house  to  which  the  izard  was  dt  stiiied. 
The  hunter  undertook  to  be  my  guide  to  the  hotel 
at  Bagneres.  Soon  after,  the  valley  and  the  town 
appeared  below  ;  and  in  less  than  an  hour,  1  was 
seated  at  close  quarters  with  an  izard-sttak. 

The  valley  of  Bagneres  de  Louchon  is  one  of  the 
most  extensive  and  most  beautiful  of  the  Pyrenees. 
It  is  finely  variegated  with  corn-fields,  and  mea- 
dows, and  wood,  and  plentifully  watered  by  the 
Pique,  and  two  tributary  streams.  And  the  baths, 
at  a  little  distance  from  the  town,  surrounded  by 
fine  avenues  of  trees,  and  backed  by  the  verdant 
and  wooded  slopes  of  the  mountains,  are  not  the 
least  beautiful  features  in  the  picture.  Several 
villages,  too,  lie  under  the  acclivities ;  and  many 
pretty  houses  and  cottages  dot  the  sides  of  the  hills. 
None  of  the  baths  can  boast  of  such  perfect  shade 
as  Bagneres  de  Louchon.  Wide  umbrageous  alleys 
lead,  in  different  directions,  from  the  baths ;  and 
altogether,  if  I  were  forced  to  sojourn  at  any  of  the 
Pyrenean  baths  during  a  long  period,  when  society 
as  well  as  scenery  miglit  be  an  advantage,  I  should 
prefer  Bagneres  de  Louchon  either  to  Cauterets 
or  to  Bagneres  de  Bigoi're,  The  season  of  the 
waters  is  from  May  till  October  ;  but  invalids  some- 
times remain  during  the  winter,  and  do  not  cease 
from  the  use  of  the  baths.  The  accommodations 
for  strangers  are  only  equalled  by  Bagneres  de 
Bigorre,  and  their  situation  ai  Louchon  is  far  more 
agreeable.  Upwards  of  1500  strangers  may  find 
apartments ;  and  Jiere,  there  are  several  tables 
cVhote,  an  agreeable  exception  to  the  other  baths. 
Every  week  during  the  season  there  is  a  ball,  and 
there  is  also  a  tolerably  well-stored  library. 

The  baths  of  Louchon,  like  many  others  of  the 
Pyrenean  baths,  were  known  to  the  Romans.  Some 
years  as:o,  a  monument  was  discovered  at  a  little 
distance  under  ground,  adorned  with  statues  and 
columns  in  white  marble,  the  work  of  the  former 
conquerors  of  this  country.  There  are  nine  medi- 
cinal springs  at  Bagneres  de  Louchon,  all  issuing 
from  a  rock  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  adjacent 
mountains,  and  their  temperature  varies  from  26" 
to  52"  of  Reaumur.  They  all  contiiin  sulphur, 
glauber-salt,  sea-salt,  soda,  bitumen,  and  an  inso- 
luble matter,  whose  principle  is  not  ascertaine.l. 
All  medical  authorities  agree  in  ascribing  to  these 
waters  high  medicinal  qualities  ;  and,  according  to 
the  best  treatise  which  has  been  written  upon  the 
waters  of  the  Pyrenees,  the  following  is  the  enume- 
ration of  diseases  in  which  they  are  found  to  be 
beneficial : — "  Dans  toutes  les  maladies  de  la  peau, 
comme  dartres  de  toute  espece,  et  dans  les  mala- 
dies occasione'es  par  le  lait  re'pandu,  quelque  graves 
qu'elles  soient,  les  rhuraatismes,  maladies  des  yeux, 
maladies  des  parties  conservatrices  des  yeux  ;  le'sion 
d'oreille,  maladie  du  systeme  osseux,  blessures  ; 
gale  ventree,  rougeale  ;  maladies  des  articulations  ; 
maladies  des  glandes  salivaires  ;  humeurs  froides  ; 
maladies  des  voies  urinaires  ;  catarrhe  pulmonaire  ; 
asthenique;  phthisic  pulmonaire, loi-sque  le  mal  n'est 
pas  parvenu  au  dernier  degr^ ;  obstructions  des 
toutes  sortes,  et  jaunisse."  This  is  a  most  inspirit- 
ing catalogue  ;  and  wonderful  waters  they  must  in- 
deed be,  if  they  cure  or  alleviate  one-half  of  the 
maladies  enumerated.  I  have  conversed,  however, 
with  several  medical  men,  who,  if  they  have  not  in 
all  points  subscribed  to  the  above  enumeration,  did 


•  '111 


i  ■•:■>. 


'  il 


.  .4* 


t 


102 


lU  LiU.TZ. 


[chap.  XXIV. 


not  hesitate  to  ascribe  to  tiic  wat.i-s  e.xtraordinary 
virtiu'S.    Then-  can  be  no  doubt,  from  tlie  chemical 
analysis  of  tliese  sprint;s,  that  tlie  mineral  watei-s 
of  the  Pyrenees  are  anionic  the  most,  if  not  the  most, 
etticacitms  of  the  medicinal  springs  in  Hurope.      In 
the  cure  of  rheumatism,  and  in  the  cure  of   old 
wounds,  experience  has  shown  their  decided  supe- 
riority over    every    other    bath  ;    ami    the    I'n  nch 
(Tovernment  even  has  considered  the  mineral  wat.rs 
nf  the  Pyrenees  of  so  much  importance,  that  it  has 
erected    them    into    a    government    estaldishment. 
Physicians  say,  that  the  watei-s  of  Bart'L,'es,  and  of 
l^a''neres   de*Louchon,  have   performed   the   most 
important  and  radical  cures  ;  and,  althou^di  a  <;reater 
munber  of  stninuers  resort  to  Baj;neres  de  Hig<n-re 
than  to  anv  of  the  other  baths,  these  are  not  all  in- 
valids.      More   invalids   resort   to    Louchon,    than 
eitlier  to   liajrueres  or  liarej^^es,  exchulin-;  privates 
in  the  army,  for  whom  there  is  a  separate  establish- 
ment at  Bareges.     The  access  to  Hagncres  de  Lou- 
(dion  is  both  cheap  and  easy.    There  is  a  mail-coach 
thrice  a  week  from  Thoulouse  ;  and  jtrivate  vehicles 
are  always  to  be  had  at  Tarb(>s.    Hut  the  traveller, 
who   wishes    to   see    the     Pyrenees,    nuist    not    be 
•  ncumbered    with    a    roitiin' ;    even  a  horse    may 
l)e    spared    with    advantag(\     There,   as    in   every 
other   mountainous   cnuntry,   pedestrianism   is    the 
(.idy  mode  of  travelling,  for  the  man  who  wislies  to 
extract  all   tlu>  pleasure  that  monntaiu-s(nnery  can 
furnish,  or   to  i)iek   uj)   information   resj^ecting  the 
habits  of  tlu'  people  among  whom  he  journ.ys. 

There  are  many  objects  of  curiosity  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Bagneres  de  Louchon.     Of  these,  the 
most   remarkable,  and  the  most   interesting,  is  the 
lake  of  Nr//A /(^  one  of  the  few    lakes  of  the  Pyre- 
nees  worthy  of  a  visit.      I  dedicated  a  ilay  to  the 
Seculejo,  an\l  have  seldom  passed  one  more  to  my 
mind.    I  left  Bagneres  do  Lcuclion  about  sunrise — 
the  usual  hour  of  my  d<parture  uj)on  any  t\eursi(tn. 
The  road  to  it  is  wild  and  pastoral,  rajtidly  rising 
towards  the  south,  and  having  constantly  in  view 
tile  nuijestic   scenery   that   lies   upon   the   Spanish 
frontier.    There  wire  fortunately  no  parties  of  con- 
valescents t  rum  l.ouchon  upou  the  day  I  had  chosen, 
so  that  I  had  the  lake  all  to  myself  ;  and  I  enjoyed 
this  selfish  ])leasure   like  an  epicure,  as   I   am,  in 
these  matters.      The  lake  of  Sceulcjo  is  not  a  scene 
for  mirth — scarei-ly  even   for  society.      It   is  wild, 
solitary,  and  sombre  ;  and  silence  best  accords  with 
it,      Tlie   low   ri])[)le   of  the  water,  the   noise  of  its 
cataract,  or  the  cry  of  a  bird  of  ]'rey,  are  tlu'  only 
interrujttions  of  silence  that  are  i/i  kn fnihi  with  the 
scene  ;   and   these   were   tlu>  only  sounds  that   dis- 
turbed its  trantiuillity  as  I  stood  upon  the  nuxrgin 
of  the  water.     The   lake  is  entirely  surrounded  by 
high   mountains,  exceptint:  A\here  it  finds  egress  ; 
and  its  shores  are  generally  bold  and   rugijed.     At 
the  ui)per  end,  a  cascade  not  less  than  (>00  or  7<>0 
feet  in  height  falls  from  the  top  of  a  peri)endicular 
rock    into  the   lake.      It   is  im])<issil)le   to  make   the 
circuit  of  the  lake,  owing  to  the  pt-rpendicularity 
of    the  banks  in   many   places  ;  but,  excei)ting  at 
the  spot  where   the   cascade  falls,   I    contrived  to 
walk  round  it.     It  is  saitl  that  the  trout  of  this  lake 
is  exquisite  ;  but,  as   then-  is   no  boat  upon  it,  they 
are  allowed  to  live   the  full  term  of  their  natural 

lives. 

After  lingering  on  the  margin  of  tlie  Seculejo  an 
hour  or  two,  I  climbed  up  the  eastein  bank,  by  a 
path  which  has  almost  the  aj'pearance  of  a  ladder, 


and  which,  indeed,  bears  the  name  of  Scaf a.     Hav- 
ing reached  the  sunmiit  of  the  bank,  I  entered  a 
gorge,  through  which    T  jiassed  to  a  hollow  lying  at 
the  base  of  the  mountain,  called  the  Hspingi»  ;  and, 
still  proceeding  to  ascend  the  first  ridges  of  the 
mountain,  1  reached  the  two  lakes  of  Esping,  winch 
1  had  seen  marked  on  tlie  map.  and  had   resolv(>d 
to  visit.      These   are  very  elevated  mountain-tarns, 
lying   almost  in   the  region  of  snow.     All  is  h«>re 
sombre,    melancholy,    rude,    and     dismal  — great 
i.,,(.ks — a   few   stunted   tre<'s— and  still,  dfe]>,  dark 
waters,  are  the  features  of  the  scene.     Time  would 
not   i>ermit  me   to  remain    long  here.      I  again  re- 
turned to  the  Seculejo  ;  and,  after  dining  luxuriously 
upon  provision  1  had  brought  fnmi  l.ouchon,  1  set 
out  on  my  return,  and  arrivrd  after  dusk  at   Bag- 
neres. 


ClIAPTKR  XXXIV. 

TUF.TIF.TZ. 

Bayonne  and  its  Advantages  as  a  Residence — Travelling  en 
Cacok't— Road  to  Bieretz— Situation  of  Bicretz— The  Coast 
—The  Hay  of  liiscay.  in  Cahn  and  in  Storm— A  Perilous 
Situation— Views  round  Hiirttz— Rierelz  as  a  Sea-hathing 
l>lace — Curious  Usages — Promenades  in  the  Neighbour- 
hood— Otlur  Kxcnrsions— -A  Fete  du  Village— Pleasures 
of  a  St  jour  at  Hieretz. 

I.N  this  chapter,  I  am  about  to  take  a  libf^rty,  which 
I  tru'^t  thv  i-eader  will  j»ardon  ;  and  which,  indeed, 
the  titl<"  of  the  book  almost,  if  not  altogether,  ex- 
cuses. \\  iththe  iasitwentypag(  s,  1  have  interspei-sed 
sonu-  little  account  of  tlie  watering-]>laces  of  the  Py- 
renees ;  ami  1  purpose,  in  this  chapter,  transporting 
the  reader  140  miles  from  the  Jldiifi.^  J'iii\iuii<,  to 
givi-  him  some  account  of  another  kind  of  watering- 
place,  out-  of  the  principal  sea-bathing  resorts  of  tlie 
south  of  Franc*'.  The  name  of  this  place  is  Bieretz. 
It  is  situated  within  two  miles  of  Bayonne  ;  and, 
although  1  did  not  visit  Pieretz  in  the  same  year  as 
that  in  which  1  travelled  through  the  Pyrenees, 
there  can  be  no  imj)roj»riety  in  including,  in  an 
account  of  the  south  <»f  I'rance,  some  notice  of  a 
spot  so  much  fretiueiited,  and  so  delightful,  as 
Jheretz. 

Fii-st  of  all,  l<t  me  say  a  few  words  of  Bayonne, 
which  one  must  pass  through,  in  order  to  reach 
Bieretz.  Bayonne  is  a  fav*»urite  city  of  mine.  I 
like  every  thing  about  it.  1  like  its  clear  broad 
rivers — reminding  me  of  the  d*  lightful  scenes 
throuuh  wliich  thtv  have  travelled  from  their 
sources  in  the  High  Pyrenees.  I  like  its  environs 
of  hill  and  dale—  green  meadows,  and  h-rtile  firlds, 
and  gardens,  and  copses,  and  orcliards — 1  like  its 
busy  streets — its  open  place,  facing  the  river — its 
broad  ramj>arts — its  long  \v<:o(len  bridge  across  the 
A<lour — its  excellent  nifc:<,  and  still  more  exctlieiit 
hotels — its  resjiectable  and  obliging  inhabitants — 
and  the  neat  coiffure  of  the  hourijeuises.  Tlie  neigh- 
bourhood of  Bayonne  1  think  infinitely  preferable 
as  a  residence  to  any  of  those  towns  in  the  south  of 
France  which  ai>>  colonized  by  the  Knglish.  The 
environs  of  neither  Fan  n(U*  Montauban  are  pre- 
ferable to  the  environs  of  liayonne  ;  and  with  as 
fertile  aiid  beautiful  a  country  on  one  side,  Bayonne 
has  the  advantage  of  the  si  a  on  the  other.  It  has 
also  some  lesser  advantages  ;  among  v\  Inch,  one — 


CHAP,  XXXIV.] 


BIERETZ. 


1 

103 


not  a  trifling  advantage  to  a  resident — is  an  abund- 
ant, varied,  and  cheaj)  fish-market.  But  its  great 
advantage  is  the  vicinity  of  the  sea.  Over  all  the 
southern  provinces  of  France,  the  heats  of  summer 
are  ojipressive  ;  and  every  one  accjuainted  with  a 
mountainous  country  knows  well,  that,  unless  we 
ascend  to  the  very  elevated  sj)ots,  the  heat  in  the  al- 
pine valleys  is  no  k>ss  intense  than  in  the  lower  })lains. 
Bagneres  de  Bigorre  is,  therefore,  a  very  insuffi- 
cient retreat  from  tlio  heat  of  the  dog-days  ;  and 
even  Louchon,  or  St.  Sauveur,  will  lit-ar  no  com- 
parison in  coolness  with  the  shores  of  the  Bay  of 
Biscay.  What  can  be  more  convenient  than  to 
have  cliarming  bathing-([uarters  within  three  miles 
of  one's  residence  !  And  there  is  still  another 
ground  of  prefi-rence  to  be  stated  in  favour  of  lia- 
yonne.  Our  neighliours,  the  French,  with  whom 
we  English  are  so  fond  of  domiciling  ourselves,  it 
must  be  allowed,  are  fond  of  changes — pulling  down 
and  putting  uj)  kings  and  governments — and  play- 
ing at  political  games,  in  which  life  is  a  thing  of 
absolutely  no  importance  :  such  events,  it  is  well 
known,    occasion   a    sad    commotion 


amonc: 


tlu 


English  residents,  who  think  only  of  educating  their 
chiMreii  fur  half  nothing,  and  of  drinking  French 
wine  at  one  sous  per  bottle.  Some  are  frightened 
out  of  their  wits  ;  others  are  frightened  out  of  the 
country  ;  and  all  are  frightened  into  indifference 
about  cheap  education,  and  the  luxuries  of  a  south- 
ern cliniatf.  But  if  one  resided  at  Bavonne,  all 
these  fears  might  be  spared  ;  because  the  resident 
has  only  to  ]>ut  his  money  into  his  pocket,  lock  his 
d<»or,  and  walk  into  Spain  ;  or  he  may  step  into  a 
boat,  at  the  bridge  of  the  Adour,  with  his  family 
and  his  treasures,  and  run  into  the  harbour  of 
St.  Sebastian  or  Fontarabia  before  dinner.  There 
is  no  disputing  the  advantage  of  Bayonne  to  a  timid 
resident. 

I  shall  now  speak  of  Bieretz  :     And,  first,  of  the 
manner  of  getting  there.   When  you  walk  to  the  gate 
ealle<l  the  l^orte  d' E^jxitjnc^  you  are  assailed  by  the 
cry  of"  Monsieur,  voulez-vous   nn  cacolet  f  from 
fifty  diflerent   female  voices  ;  and,  looking  around, 
you  perceive,  on  every  side,  women  sitting  under  the 
wall,  and  a  number  of  horses  standing  beside  them  ; 
and  if  vou  wish  to  go  to  Bieretz,  vou  must  nod  vour 
head,  and  you  will   bi'  journeying  cit  cacolet  in  a 
trice.     To  ride  en  cucol,  t,  is  to  journey  as  one  jour- 
neys in  no  |)art  of  the  world — excepting  at  Bieretz, 
and    (HI    the   north-eastern   frontier   of  Spain.      A 
Wooden  frame  is  placed  across  a  horse's  back,  with 
two  seats — one  on  each  side — with   little  arms  on 
the  outside,  and  cushions  to  sit  upon  ;  and   these, 
when  unoccuj)ied,  are  an  equipoise.      If  there  be 
one  traveller,  he  occupies  one  seat ;  and  his  luggage,  I 
if  he  have  any,  is  placed  upon  the  other.      If  there  | 
be  two  travellei's,  each   occupy  a  seat  ;  or,  if  the  j 
traveller  have  no  luggage,  he  and  the  female  driver  I 
occupy  the   two  seats.      Every  one   travels   in   this  j 
mode  ;  though,  to  one  unaccustomed  to  it,  it  seems 
somewhat  ludicrous,  as  well  as  unceremonious,  to 
be   propped    upon   a  meagre    horse,  cheek-by-jowl 
with  the  female  driver. 

But  it  requires  an  apprenticeship  to  ride  en 
CHcolet.  One  cannot  seat  one's  self  with  the  same 
security  <;«  c</co/€^,  as  vault  into  a  saddle  ;  it  re<iuires 
tin?  utmost  jirecision,  and  the  briskest  action,  to 
esca]>e  being  rolled  in  the  dust.  Let  it  be  recol- 
lected, that  the  seats  are  an  equipoise, and  the  diffi- 
I'ulties  will  be  apparent.     If  the  seats  are   both  to  } 


be  occupied,  the  persons  who  are  to  occupy  them 
must  make  the  spring  at  the  same  instant  ;  they 
must  be  as  watchful  of  the  mutual  signal,  as  a  file 
of  soldiei-s  who  wait  the  command — "  Make  ready 
— present — fire  !  "  A  second's  delay — a  second's 
precipitation — proves  fatal  ;  the  seat  is  attained  ; 
and  at  the  same  moment,  u[i  goes  the  oj>posite  empty 
seat,  and  down  goes  the  e(iuesti'ian  below  the  horse's 
belly.  It  is  really  a  ]a-etty  art  to  mount  ev  aicolct. 
If  your  companion  be  one  of  the  drivei-s,  the  danger 
of  a  failure  is  less  ;  for  they  understand  the  thing 
so  perfectly,  that  tiny  always  catch  the  right  mo- 
ment ;  but  the  uninitiati-d  must  acijuire  the  ai-t  at 
the  expense  of  several  lynrerseinevfs.  In  descending 
from  the  cucolet,  it  is  still  worse  ;  because  there  is 
more  hurry— more  impatience  on  arriving  at  the 
end  of  a  journey  ;  and  an  injudicious  descent  does 
not  visit  its  effects  ui)on  one,  but  upon  both  travel- 
lei's ;  for  unless  the  person  who  descends  be  ex- 
tremely quick  in  his  motions,  his  seat  flies  uj)  before 
he  has  quite  left  it,  and  oversets  him  ;  and  the 
opposite  weight,  of  course,  goes  i)lumj)to  the  ground 
— with  as  fatal  effects  as  cutting  the  hammock- 
strings  of  a  middy's  berth.  My  skill  in  the  art 
of  (Vft'oAZ-mounting  and  descending,  was  acquired 
after  many  failures,  dusted  coats,  and  slight  bruises. 
But  it  is  not  only  in  mounting  and  descending  that 
art  and  practice  are  reiiuired,  but  in  keeping  one's 
seat  also.  The  cushions  are  seUlom  level  ;  there  is 
no  support  for  the  feet  ;  so  tliat  if,  at  a  steep 
descent,  the  horse  trots  a  little  harder  than  usual, 
the  inexjurienced  in  cacvlets  will  probably  slide 
forward  into  the  road  ;  and  of  course,  at  the  same 
moment,  the  j)erson  opposite  will  experience  a  like 
mishap. 

Morning,  noon,  and  evening,  the  road  between 
Bayonne  and  Bieretz  is  crowded  with  travi-ilers  en 
caculd ; — some  from  Bayonne,  going  to  take  a  dip, 
or  spend  a  day  at  Bieretz  ;  some  from  Bieretz, 
going  to  hear  the  news,  or  spend  the  day  at  Ba- 
yonne ;  some  removing  to  sea-])atliing  quartere  ; 
others  returning  to  town.  The  exjiense  of  one 
transit  is  one  franc  ami  a  half:  and  for  iioiui:  and 
returning,  two  francs  ;  but  unless  a  previous  under- 
standing be  made,  more  will  be  charged.  The 
horses  generally  bekmg  to  the  women  who  drive 
them  ;  and  they  realise  about  six  francs  jier  day 
upon  an  average  ;  which,  deducting  the  keej>  of  the 
horses,  leaves  a  very  comfortable  income.  These 
women  are  generally  young — many  of  them  hand- 
some— and  most  of  them  not  remarkable  for  the 
purity  of  their  morals.  They  generally  speak 
French,  Basque,  and  a  little  Spanish  ;  and  are 
rather  intelligent  than  otherwise,  always  carrvinjr 
on  an  unintermitting  conversation  during  the  whole 
of  the  ride.  The  horses  are  Lieiieraliv  indifferent  ; 
they  go  at  a  small  trot,  and  perform  the  trajH  in 
about  forty  minutes.  No  one  walks  between  Ba- 
yonne and  Bieretz,  F'ortunatelv  for  the  racolets. 
the  road  is  for  the  most  i)art  covered  with  deep 
sand,  through  which  it  is  an  intolenible  labour  to 
wade  ;  but  the  country  adjoining  the  rcjad  is  agree- 
able— extremely  fertile — sprinkled  with  gardens — 
and  adorned  with  many  countiy-houses. 

I  was  much  j)leased  with  the  first  view  of  Bie- 
retz ;  and  it  certainly  inii)roved  upon  ac(juaintance. 
I  will  endeavour  to  describe  its  situation.  The 
coast,  about  half  a  mile  in  extent,  is  bold  and  rocky. 
Ciifi's,  not  of  great  altitude — the  lower  part  rock, 
the  ujiper  part  grass — are  washed  by  the  sea  at 


''til. 


•fc- « 


ft: 


I' ".' 


»:1 


104 


BIERETZ. 


[chap.  XXXIV. 


hijrh  tide  ;  and  from  the  shore,  about  half  a  mile 
out,  fiioi-inous   rocks  aro  scattered,  fonnmg,  near 
the'shore,  numerous  sandy  creeks  which  He  among 
them,    and    which,    farther   fi-om    the    shore,    are 
covered,  or  nearly  covered,  at   high  ti(U',  while,  at 
low  tide,  they  are  left  almost,  or  altogether,  dry. 
Many  of  these  rocks  are  perforated  with   holes  ;  so 
that,' with  a  high  sea,  and  an   incoming  tide,   and 
always,  indeed,  in  some  degree,  when  the  tide  flows, 
the    water    ]>onrs    through   these  holes  and  rents, 
pi-esenting  the   singular  appearance  of  many  cas- 
cades.    Some  of  the   rocks  wliich   lie  close  t.>  the 
shore,  and  many   of  th<.se  which  form  the  cliffs, 
are  worn   into  vant  caverns.      In  these  the  waves 
make  ceaseless  music— a  hollow,  dismal  sound,  like 
distant  thunder  ;  and  when  a  hroad   swelling  wave 
bounds  into  these  caverns,  and  breaks  in  some  dis- 
tant chamber,  the  shock,   to  one   standing  on  the 
beach,  is  like  a   slight  earth(iuuke.      Hut   when  a 
storm  arises  in  thi;  Hay  of  Biscay,  and  a  north-west 
wind  sweeps  across  the  Atlantic,  the  scene  is  grand 
beyond    the    power    of    description.       The    whole 
space,  covered  with  rocks  which  are  scattered  over 
the  coa.st,  is  an  expanse  of  foam,  boiling  whirlpools, 
and  cataracts  ;    and  the  nois^.'  of  the  tremendous 
waves,  rushing  into  these  vast  caverns,  and  lashing 
their  inner  walls,  is  grander  a  thousjind  times  than 
the    most  terrific  thunder-storm  that  ever   burst 

from  the  sky. 

I  can  never  forget  the  scene  that  one  day  I  be- 
held, or  the  disastrous  eftects  of  the  storm.      When 
I  retired  to  bed  it  was  a  calm  night  ;  but  lightning, 
and  a  threatening  sunset,  had  portended  a  change. 
About  midnight  1  was  awoke  by  my  window  In'ing 
forced  open  by  the  tempest.     The  air  and  the  sky 
were  pitch  dark  ;  but  a  storm  lights  up  the  sea  with 
its  own  glare  ;  and  the  waves,  as  they  broke  over 
the  rocks,  and  rolled  into  the  caverns,  and  the  rush- 
ing wind,  made  a  sublimity  of  sound  beyond  any 
thing  that   I   had  ever  before  heax-d.     But  when 
morning  came,  and  dawned  upon  the  liay  of  liiscay, 
the  sublimity  of  sight  was  added  to  the  sublimity  of 
sound,     1   c'ontrivetl  to  make  my  way,  with   great 
difficulty,  to  a  si»ot   from  which    I    could  see  the 
waves  rush  into  the  caverns  ;  but  the  eye  could 
follow  them  but  a  little  way.     The  extent  of  thes<' 
subteiTanean  chamy)ers  can  be  judged  only  by  tin- 
ear  ;  for  it  was  long  after  the  wave  had  i»assed  the 
porch  that  the  shock  and  the  thunder  annomieed 
that  it  had  reached  the  innei-most  cavern.   I  was  here 
more  than   usually  sensible  of  that  unaceountabU- 
feeling  which  imptls  one  to  U>a]>  into  any  <lrea<ltul 
abvss   that  yawns  below,  and  felt  it   necessary  to 
draw  back,  from  the  fear  that  this  inclination  might 
become  too  strong  to  be  resisted.   While  I  remained 
watching  the  stt)rm,  a  young  gentleman,  who  lived 
in  the  same  house  with  me,  came  out  and  joined  me. 
He  proj>osed  to  descend  to  a  ledge  of  rocks  that  lay 
below,  that  he  might  see  farther  into  the  caverns  ; 
but  I  endeavoured  todissiuuh'  him  from  this  attemi)t. 
In  order  to   reach  this   ledge,  it  was  necessary  to 
drop  down  a  per])endicular  rock  about  four  feet  ; 
and  the   ledgi-,  which  sloped  at  nearly  an  angle  of 
forty-five,  was  about  five  yards  across,  ami  ended 
abruptly,  in  a  descent  of  twenty  or  thirty  feet,  into 
one  of 'the   boiling   cauldrons  that   lay  before  the 
porch  of  one  of  the  caverns.     My  comj»anion  would 
not  be  persuaded  to  desist  fntm  his  attempt  ;  and 
he  dropi)ed  upon  the  ledge,  but  immediately  slipped 
forward.     1  can  never  forget  my  sensations  at  that 


CHAP,  xxxiv.] 


BIERETZ. 


105 


moment.     He  fell  upon  his  face,  and  continued  to 
slide  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  edge  ;  but,  about  a 
yard  from  the  extremity,  soiue  rather  more  rugg«;d 
part  (»f  the  rock  arrest<(l  his  progress.      It  was  iin- 
possible  for  him  to  attem])t  to  regain  the  upper  part 
of  the  ledge,  for  the  exertion  miglit,  if  unsut-cessful, 
pi-ecipitate  him   downward.      He  was  a  good  swim- 
mer ;  but  sw  imming  could  have  been  of  no  avail  in 
such  a  si)ot,  and  on  such  a  day.     He  would  have 
been  hurled  in  an  instunt  against  the  porch,  or  into 
one  of  the  caverns.      I  called  to  him  to  remain  still, 
and   Hew,  rather   than  ran   to  the  house,  to  obtain 
assistance.     At  first  no  ropes  were  to  be  found,  and 
it  was  necessary  to  send  a  little  distance  to  procure 
them.     The  anxiety  during  this   interval  was  hor- 
rible ;  f<u'  it  was  ])ossible  that   the  slight  obstacle 
on  the  rock  miu'lit  have   been  insufficient  to  hinder 
any  length  of  time  the  descent  of  a  heavy  body,  and 
that  delay  mi^ht  ]>rove  fatal.       And  liow   doubly 
horril)le  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  the  person 
suspended  above  the  dreadful  gulph,the  thunder  of 
the  storm  around  him,  and  every  wave  shaking  the 
r«K'k  upon  which  he  lay  !     lint  the  rugged  spot  on 
the  r«»ck  had  still  pres»'rved  him.    He  had  remained 
without  motion  ;  and  when  we  ivached  the  rock,  he 
was  i)recisely  where  1  liad  left  liim.     No  great  ex- 
ertion was  required  to  extricate  him.     The  rope  at 
once  enabled  him  to  ascend  the  ledge, and  place  him- 
self above  it  ;  and  although  he  had  lost  his  colour, 
and  his  appetite  f(»r  breakfast  that  morning,  he  was 
philosopher  enough   to  say,  that  he  did  not  regret 
what  had  occurred,  sin;>e  'he  had  an  op])ortunity  of 
know ing  what   are  the  feelings  of  a  man  whose  life 
hangs  bv  a  thread. 

But  if  the  storm  had  not  \yeer\  the  cau.se  of  death 
to  this  young  man,  it  had  unfortunately  brought 
death  elsewhere.  Wlu  n  1  returned  to  breakfast,  1 
learned  that  a  small  vessel  had  been  wrecked  during 
the  night,  within  two  miles  of  liieretz,  and  that  all 
the  crew  had  perished.  What  their  numbers  were, 
could  not  be  a.scertain»'d.  i  walked,  when  the 
stoi-m  had  a  little  subsided,  to  the  spot  where  the 
catastro].he  had  taken  place.  The  rocks  lay  about 
three  hundred  yards  from  shore.  All  that  could 
be  seen  was  a  part  of  the  hull  fixed  upon  thi'  rock  ; 
part  of  the  timbers,  masts,  \.c.,  were  thrown  uj^on 
the  shore  ;  and  the  Ixtdiesof  three  men  had  already 
been  found,  and  carried  to  the  nearest  \illage. 

This  was  the  only  storm  that  troubled  tli<-  iiay  of 
Hiseav  during  the' fortnight  that  I  remained  at 
Itieret/  ;  all  the  rest  of  the  time,  it  was  us  smooth 
as  a  mill-pond.  I  had  always  been  accustomed  to 
associate  with  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  storms,  and  a 
broad  heavy  swell,  ever  iMlling  in  upon  the  coast  ; 
and  I  felt  something  like  disapix'intment  at  the 
l)erteet  tranquillity  that  lay  upon  it  during  the  fii-st 
week  I  resided  at  Hieretz.*  But  even  in  calm  the 
sea  has  variety  at  Bieret/.  ;  for  the  incoming  tide 
always  occasions  surf,  and  some  swell  aiuong  the 
rocks  and  cavities. 

So  much  for  the  coast.  Now  for  Bieret/.  itself. 
This  charming  little  retreat  stands  upon  mounts 
and  hollows.  The  ground  back  from  the  ditts  is 
extremely  rugged,  and  the  ht«us«'s  are  j.ut  down 
wherever  a  platfonu  or  an  agreeable  slope  is  found, 
and  where  a  view  of  the  sea  nuiy  be  had  ;  but  this 
is  not  always  ]»ossible  to  be  obtaint>d,  ov\ing  to  the 
inequalitv  of  the  ground.  Tlu'  place  is  built  wiih- 
out  auN  onler.  Th.-re  is  no  street  :  every  one  who 
builds,"  has  chosen  his  situation  without  consulting 


any  general  plan.  There  are  altogether  forty  or 
fifty  houses,  all  white,  and  generally  with  green 
verandas,  and  many  have  balconies  on  the  roof.  The 
accommodation  is  generally  good,  and  not  exor- 
bitantly dear.  Some  have  their  tables  served  from 
the  traiteurs,  and  s«»me  have  dinner  cooked  at  home. 
The  house  in  which  1  had  an  apartment  was  the 
most  choice  in  the  place  :  it  was  under  the  light- 
house, which  is,  of  course,  situated  u])on  the  most  ele- 
vated part  of  the  coast.  It  stands  upon  a  little  level 
piece  of  ground,  which  forms  a  promontory  about 
a  hundred  yards  long,  and  half  that  distance  across, 
with  two  sides  dii)ping  perpendicularly  into  the 
sea,  the  others  sloping  down  to  the  rocks  and 
caverns.  The  view  from  this  promontory  is  mag- 
nificent. In  front  is  the  ocean,  in  storm  or  in 
calm  :  on  the  east,  the  c(»ast  of  France  stretches  in 
an  immense  curve,  white  and  low  ;  while  to  the 
west,  the  bold  outline  of  the  Spanisli  coast  reaches 
in  another  vast  segment  almost  as  far  as  the  Bilbao. 
Looking  towards  the  south,  the  pictures(jue  line  of 
the  Pyrenees,  close  at  hand  with  all  their  peaks, 
and  hollows,  and  shadows,  stretches  into  both 
France  and  Sj)ain  ;  while  nearer  still,  the  pretty 
white  buildings  of  Bieret/.,  intermixed  with  tama- 
risk-trees, form  an  agreeable  and  picturesque  fore- 
ground to  the  fertile  country  that  lies  between  the 
sea  and  the  mountains.  It  was  a  Jewess  who  kept 
the  house  in  which  I  lived.  My  bed-room  com- 
manded the  line  of  both  the  French  and  Spanish 
coiists,  and  was  in  front  of  the  sea.  I  had  the  use 
of  the  saloon  below  ;  and  breakfast,  dinner,  and  tea 
were  provided,  all  for  three  francs  and  a  half  per 
day — not  half  the  price  of  a  bed-room  at  Cauterets. 
I  had  never  less  than  two,  sometimes  three  kinds 
of  fish  at  dinner,  and  always  an  excellent  dessert. 
Wine  was  not,  of  course,  included  ;  but  it  costs 
about  r)d.  per  bottle  at  Bayonne. 

As  a  bathing-place,  Bieretz  is  absolutely  perfect. 
There  is  a  creek  about  three  hundred  yards  in 
depth,  not  above  fifty  yards  across  the  mouth,  but 
widening  into  a  small  semicircle.  Rocks,  four  or 
five  hundred  feet  liigh.  Hank  both  sides  ;  and  the 
little  waves  curl  over  upon  the  hardest  and  most 
beautiful  sand  in  the  world.  At  all  times,  whether 
at  full  or  ebb-tide,  there  is  sufficient  depth  of  water 
in  this  creek  for  the  bather  ;  and  yet  the  timid  may 
find  ground  twenty  or  thirty  yards  within  water- 
mark. Upon  the  smooth  sand,  a  little  way  beyond 
water-mark,  several  manphrS  are  pitched  for  the  use 
of  bathers  ;  and  m(»rning,  noon,  and  evening,  but 
esj)ecially  at  the  wariuest  time  of  the  day,  this  little 
creek  presents  the  liveliest  scene  imaginable. 

Both  sexes  bathe  in  this  creek  ;  but  gentlemen, 
of  course,  wear   drawers,  which   are  provided  by 
the  keepers  of  the  marqui'es ;  and,  thus  attired,  the 
water  is  quite  a  lounge,  where  the  ]>rettiest  conver- 
sations are  carried  on.     The  ])ersons  who  come  to 
Bieretz    for  the  sake    of   l)athing,    especially    the 
females,  pass  half  their  time  in  the  water.      No  one 
remains  a  shorter  time  in  the  sea  than  an  hour  ; 
and  1  have  seen  the  same  persons  bathing  before 
breakfast,  before  dinner,  and  again  in  the  evening. 
Most  of  the  ladies   wear  l)onnets,   and    never   go 
under  the  water,  but  are  i)rovided  with  bladders, 
with  which  they  attemjit  to  swim,  and  sometimes 
venture  out  of  their  depth.      Unless  the  wind  blow- 
strong  from  the  north-west,  the   creek   is  always 
calm.      A  storm  witliout  from  any  other  (juarter, 
onlv  makes  a  little  commotion  within,  hut  no  waves 


or  sui'f.  The  water  is  beautifully  clear  ;  and  in 
sunny  days,  the  concentrated  rays,  and  the  reflec- 
tion from  the  sides  of  the  creek,  render  it  a  tepid 
bath.  I  was  not  able  to  discover, that  the  practice 
of  spending  so  much  time  in  the  water  proved  at 
all  injurious  to  health.  I  particularly  remarked 
three  French  ladies,  who  passed  not  less  than  four 
houi*s  every  day  in  the  water,  and  they  were  pic- 
tures of  health.  This  is  verj'  opposite  from  the 
practice  recommended  by  the  medical  men  of  this 
country.  One  is  not  obliged  at  Bieretz  to  bathe  in 
the  creek  I  have  been  speaking  of.  There  are 
many  lesser  retired  creeks,  or  shelving  rocks,  suited 
to  all  degrees  of  ])rowess,  courage,  and  modesty. 

Many   hours  may  be  delightfully   spent  on  the 
sea-shore  at  Bieretz.     If  the  western  headland  be 
doubled,  a  fine  stretch  of  sands  extends  far  beyond 
the   Spanish   lines.     To  double  the  headland  is  in- 
deed somewhat  hazardous  ;  for  the  only  path  that 
descends  to  these  sands  is  a  naiTOw  track  down  the 
face  of  the  cliffs,  and  a  steady  step  is  required.    But 
the  sands  are  well  worthy  of  this  little  peril ;  and 
my  evening  walk  was  generally  there.     Here,  too, 
the  most  timid  bather  may  find  a  shelving  beach, 
and  the  most  retiring  need  fear  no  intrusion.     An- 
other pleasant,  but  more  dangerous  walk,  is  among 
the  great  masses  of  rock,  and  the  various  sandy 
creeks  that  lie  among  them,  which  are  always  left 
hard  and  dry  by  the  ebbing  tide.     Curious  shells 
are  picked  up  ;  strange  fishes  are  found  in  the  little 
pools  which  are  here  and  there  left ;  and  beautiful 
and    fantastic    caves    and    arches  are   discovered 
among  the  rocks.   But  such  rambles  are  dangerous. 
In  some  places,  the  tide  has  accumulated   sand 
above  the  surrounding  level ;  and  after  having  lin- 
gered in  such  spots  for  a  time,  one  may  find  in  re- 
turning, that  the  water  has  already  flowed  through 
all  the  lower  channels,  and  that  the  retreat  is  cut 
off".     This  twice  happened  to  myself.     Once  I  was 
able  to  leap  across  the  channel ;  the  other  time  I 
was  obliged  to  wade  nearly  up  to  the  middle.     One 
resource,  however,  would  always  remain — to  climb 
to  the  summit  of  one  of  the  higher  rocks,  which, 
unless  in  stormy  weather,  are  not  covered  at  high 
water,  and  wait  the  ebb-tide. 

But  a  st'/o?/r  at  Bieretz  may  be  charmingly  diver- 
sified by  excursions  more  distant  than  the  beach. 
A  c<ic()let  is  always  at  command  to  carry  one  to 
Bayonne.  There' is  a  lake  about  a  league  distant, 
where  the  amateur  of  wild  duck  shooting  may  am- 
ply gratify  his  passion.  There  is  excellent  trout- 
fishing  in  the  Nine,  and  in  the  other  lesser  streams 
that  descend  from  the  Pyrenees ;  and  one  may 
make  an  excursion  either  by  land  or  water  to  St. 
Sebastian,  where  one  sees  a  new  order  of  things, 
and  acquires  the  distinction,  besides,  of  having 
been  in  Spain  ;  or,  if  a  week  be  devoted  to  an  ex- 
cursion, the  tour  of  Biscay  may  be  made. 

While  at  Bieretz,  I  went  one  afternoon  to  see  a 
ftt£  du  rUImje  in  a  little  town  a  league  up  the  coast, 
'but  about  a  mile  distant  from  the  sea.  I  passed  by 
the  little  lake  I  have  spoken  of;  but  being  no 
sportsman,  I  did  not  lament  the  want  of  a  gun.  A 
ftte  du  rillmje  in  the  south  of  France  is  worth 
"seeing,  the  \vomen  are  so  clean  and  neatly  dressed. 
In  th^s  neighbourhood,  too,  they  dance  the  Basque 
dances,  which  are  curious  and  interesting  to  a 
stran<^er.  I  resolved  to  return  to  Bieretz  by  the 
sea-shore,  along  the  sands  of  which  I  have  spoken  ; 
and,  striking  across  some  sand-hills,  I  soon  reached 


1  ^' 


i-««1 


IOC 


JorilNEV  TO  PAU. 


[cUAf.  XXXV. 


thi-m.  T^ut  loiii;  bffore  T  ^'ainod  the  honrlland, 
which  it  is  iiectissarv  to  cliinb  up  in  order  to  <;i:i  to 
Hiertt/,  it  was  dusk  ;  and  whrn  I  arrived  at  the 
loot  of  the  rock,  it  was  so  dark  that  I  found  the 
UMvattst  <littii-ulty  in  (iiscovcrin<^  tlic  jioint  whore 
tho  ascent  l)e<;ins.  It  was  ahsohiti.ly  necessary 
either  to  ascend  or  retreat,  because  the  tide  was 
fiowinj;  in  rai)idly  ;  but  the  utmost  caution  was  re- 
quired ;  for  the  least  deviation  from  the  i^ath  would 
have  thrown  me  over  a  precipice.  The  ^dan'  ot 
the  hglithouse  (hi/./.led  my  cncs  ;  and  1  mon'  than 
once  paused,  doubtin«i  tlie  possibility  of  tindin;;  the 
path,  and  almost  resolved  to  descend — thou^di  this 
would  have  bet'U  almost  as  dani,'erous — and  sei'k 
out  some  nook  under  the  clifls  beyond  water-mark, 
liowevt-r,  I  had  been  so  much  accustonied  to  the 
ascent,  that  habit  <,'uided  me  out  of  the  way  of  dan- 
ger, and  I  reached  the  sunnnit  in  safety. 

I  shall  always  recollect  luy  xtjotir  at  llieretz  with 
the  truest  })leasure.  How  was  it  ]>ossible  to  i)ass 
one's  time  more  a<,'reeably  than  I  did  there  i  A 
stroll  u}>on  tin-  grassy  jilatiorm,  and  a  breath  of 
sea-air,  created  an  appetite  for  briakfast.  A  ride 
.'/,  r>ir(,f>t  to  liayonne-  a  seat  among  the  rocks — a 
tepid  bath  of  an  hour  in  the  creek  —  j)leasantly 
brou-^ht  round  the  dinner-hour  ;  and  the  fish  were 
so  fresh,  the  Pyrenean  mutton  so  sweet,  and  the 
Jewess's  puddings  so  excellent,  that  an  appetiti' 
was  scarcely  rtMiuired.  Then  what  could  be  a  plea- 
santer  dessert  than  the  conversation  of  two  intelli- 
gent men  who  lived  in  the  same  h(»use  {  As  the 
evening;  a|)proached,  all  the  i/Uc  of  lUeretz  assem- 
bled on  tlie  platform;  and  it  was  a  magniticent 
spectacle  to  see  the  sun  sink  in  the  ocean,  and  the 
coasts  of  France  and  Spain  fade  away  in  the  deepen- 
in<^  dusk.  The  <j;lare  of  the  lighthouse  was  the 
warnini,'  for  tea  ;  and  a  sober  game  at  iairte  brought 
the  hour  of  rej)ose. 

1  conclude  this  sketch  of  T')ieretz,  by  advising 
thos<-  of  my  countrymen  wh<»  w  i^h  to  spend  a  tew 
months  at  a'jjreeable  sea-l>athiii;;  (quarters,  and  in  a 
delightful  climate,  to  step  into  the  steam-boat  for 
IJourdeaux,  without  any  terror  of  the  1  Jay  of  liis- 
cav,  w  hich  in  summer  is  oftener  smooth  than  rough. 
I'our-and-twenty  hours  fr(»m  liniudt  au\,  in  a  com- 
modious diligence,  will  In'ing  tlie  traveller  to  liay- 
oime  ;  and  another  hour  will  place  him  at  Hieretz, 
wiiere  he  niay  find  out  the  Jewess  wh«»  lives  in  the 
lighthouse,  and  sjxnd  his  time  as  niucli  to  his  .satis- 
faction as  I  spent  mine.  In  hve  days  from  Liver- 
pool, one  may  be  in  Hieretz.  1  can  have  no  doubt 
that  this  chapter  will  till  the  house  of  the  Jewess 
the-  ensuing  sunnn<  r  ;  and  I  ha\e  as  little  doubt, 
that  her  talent  in  the  cookery  of  fish,  and  in  the 
manufactory  of  bread-pudding,  will  induce  some  to 
repeat  their  visit. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


JOl'RNKY   1  lioM   liAO.NKRKS    DK  LOKllON  TO  PAU. 

Retrospect— Journey  troiii  Ikij^Mieres  de  Louelum  to  Hagneres 
de  l{i;:orre— The  Caroiuie— A  Tradition  of  tJie  Holy  Wars 
— Journey  to  Pau— .^t.  I't — Hetliarani  and  its  Cavalry- 
French  Honesty— The  Provinte  of  lUarn  and  its  Produc- 
tions— Approach  to  i'au. 

I  WAS  now  about  to  bid  a  tinal  farewell  to  the  Py- 
renees—  to  change  the  varied  charms  of  mountam- 


scenory  for  tiie  soft  fertility  of  the  plains  of  liearn  ; 
and  th*e  solitudi-  and  sil.iice  of  the  valleys,  for  the 
bustle  and  din  of  Hourdeaux.      I  entered  the  Pyre- 
nees  with   highly-excited   ex]»ectati<>ns  ;    and  they 
were  fully  and  delightfully  realised.     The  misre- 
presentations of  tlu>  traveller  and  the  novelist  had 
led  to  grievous  disappointment  in  the  southern  pro- 
vinces of  Prance  ;  but,  trusting  neither  to  the  tra- 
veller nor  the  novelist,  because,  knowing   that   in 
nK.untains  of  a  certain  altitude,  striking  and  inter- 
esting scenes  cannot  fail  to  be  disclosed,   1  felt  per- 
suaded that,  among  the  Pyrenees,  I  should  find  the 
beauty  which  I  sought  after.      1  have  endeavoured 
to  c«)nvey  to  the  reader  s(»me  idea  of  the  charm  of 
Pyrenean  scenery  ;  and  if,  in  my  desire  to  do  jus- 
tice to  it,  my  descriptions  have  been  too  much  ex- 
temled,  I    have  only  this  apology  to  make,  that,  in 
comj>arison  with  the  Alps,  the  Pyrenees  are  almost 
unknown  ;— that  there  is  scarcely  any  record  of  the 
traveller's   observations  upon   them,  excepting   the 
observations  of  those  who  hare  contined  themselves 
cliieHy  to  geolo^^ical  in(|uiry  ;  and  that,  therefore, 
it  was' a  duty  to  speak  as  fully  as  my  limits  would 
permit,  of  a  country  so  worthy  of  the  traveller's 
regards,  and  yet  so  rarely  visited  by  him.     The  re- 
maiiKler  of  this  volume  will   have  more  to  do  with 
men  and  cities  than  nature — themes  not  so  much  to 
my  liking  ;  but  which   must,  nevertheless,  occupy 
the  i)age  of  the  writer  who  is  ambitious  of  convey- 
ing  information,  as  will  as  of  atfording  entertain- 
ment. 

1  left  Bagneres  de  Louchon  upon  one  of  those 
mornin«,'s,  which,  to  the  pedestrian,  are  the  most 
delightful — the  dull,  tran<|uil  morning',  when  the 
sky  is  shrou<led,  not  in  clouds,  but  by  a  dappled 
veil  of  bluish  gray — when  the  atmosphere,  without 
being  sultry,  is  niild  and  balmy — and  wlieii  a  liglit 
air  comes  in  occasional  small  puffs,  just  enough  to 
lift  the  leaves  of  the  oak,  or  waft  the  dandelion  ; 
and  which  tempts  t)iie  to  luit  gloves  in  tlu-  p<»cket, 
and  to  lilt  the  cajt  from  the  foreluad.  1  had  a 
journey  of  at  lea>t  ten  leagues  before  me  ;  and 
therefore  was  early  upon  tlu-  road.  1  had  found  a 
conveyance  tlu-  «lay  bt  fore  for  my  jtortinantc  au  to 
i'au;  and  1  was  thenfore  unincumbered  with 
either  horse  or  guide.  This  1  call  travelling  luxu- 
riously. 

Two  K'a;;ues  and  a  half  from  Jiai^'iicres  de  Lou- 
chon, a  little  beyond  the  hamlet  of  C'i(>rp,  the  road 
lies  along  the  side  ui  the  river  Pitpie  ;  and  this 
may  still  be  called  a  mountaiii-ioad.  On  the  east, 
indeed,  the  coiintrv  is  onlv  hilU  ;  but  on  the  west 
lies  a  mountain-ran;,'i',  which  is  the  boundary  be- 
tween the  Low  and  the  High  Pyrenees.  The  Pi<iue 
must  be  a  choice  trout ing-stream.  It  possesses 
almost  all  the  «iualitications  1  mentioned,  when 
speakiu'j;  of  the  O'tn  (A  < 'iiuftrdn.  Petwi-en  Lou- 
chon and  Cierp,  no  fewer  than  inne  small  streams, 
all  Mowing  from  wist  to  east,  join  the  Picjue. 
'I'hese  ail  come  down  littK-  lateral  valleys,  wiiich 
;iie  so  full  of  foliaj^e,  that  the  streams  are  only  seen 
when'  tluy  issue  from  them.  At  Cierj)  1  stopi>ed 
to  breakfast,  at  a  very  small  auberge,  where,  liow- 
ever,  oifc  (III  lait  was  attainable  ;  and,  after  a  shoi't 
rest,  I  proceeded  on  my  journey.  Soon  after  leav- 
ing Cierp,  the  Piijue  mingles  its  waters  with  the 
int)re  celebrated  ( iaronne,  destined  to  fertilize  the 
southern  plains  of  France — to  c<innect  the  (Ireat 
(anal  of  Languedoe  and  the  Mediterranean  with 
the  Atlantic — and  to  be  the  cijamiel  of  cummerce, 


CHAP.  XXXV.] 


JOURNEY  TO  PAU. 


107 


and  form  the  ])ort,  of  one  of  the  first  commercial 
cities  of  Europe — 1i(<iirth<ut.v. 

After  the  junction  of  the  two  rivers,  tlie  scenery 
becomes  softer,  liy  one  ascending  from  the  plains, 
it  might  be  called  mountain-scenery ;  but,  con- 
trasted vvitli  the  majestic  scenes  of  the  Hautes  Py- 
renees, its  character  is  gentleness.  All  this  country 
is  well  i>eopled.  I  ])assed  numerous  hamlets,  and 
several  villages  ;  and  the  ai)])earance  of  the  land  as 
well  as  of  the  peo])le,  announced  a  dei)artiire  from 
the  m(»untains.  At  a  i)lace  called  St.  Bertrand  de 
Cominges,  my  path  and  the  road  no  longer  lay  to- 
gether. The  road  struck  to  the  right  to  St.  Gaudens 
and  Thoulouse  ;  but  my  direction  lay  to  the  left, 
uj»  the  bank  of  the  NkU'  to  Ln  linrtlu'.  I  found 
only  a  foot-path  by  the  river-side  ;  but  this  was  suf- 
ficient. There  was  no  mistaking  the  way  ;  and,  after 
a  pleasant  walk  of  about  three  hours  from  St.  Ber- 
trand, 1  saw  La  liarthc  on  the  ojtposite  side  of  the 
river.  There  was  no  bridge  across,  and  oi)})osite 
to  Jia  Barthe  the  stream  was  not  fordable  ;  but 
about  lialf  a  mile  up  the  river,  I  found  a  spot, 
where,  by  wading  only  knee-dee]),  and  making  a 
few  long  steps  fnmi  rock  to  rock,  across  deeper 
channels,  I  attained  the  o])posito  bank,  and  reached 
La  Barthe.  Here  1  dined,  and  iiKjuired  my  road 
to  liagneres  de  Bigorre.  I  1  'arned  that  there  was 
no  road,  not  even  a  track,  and  that  the  distance 
was  about  th  ve  leagues  and  a  half.  A  peasant  lad 
at  the  auberge  undertook  to  guide  me  across  the 
country  ;  and,  as  I  was  desirous  of  reacliing  Bag- 
neres that  night,  I  had  no  remedy  but  to  put  myself 
iiiuh'r  his  jjrotection. 

Our  road  lay  through  green  acclivities  and  sweet 
pastoral  scenes  ;  but,  at  one  place,  a  novel  and  highly 
])ictiires(ine  scene  jireseiited  itself.  It  was  a  deej) 
valley,  not  half  a  mile  across,  bounded  by  rocks; 
and  ii}>on  the  summit  of  the  rocks,  opposite  to  each 
other,  stood  the  ruins  of  two  castles.  These  were 
the  castles  of  EsihtIic  and  Loinine  ;  and  the  guide 
narrated  a  tradition  of  th(>se  i)laces  as  we  went 
alon-^.  The  lords  of  these  two  castles  were  enemies, 
and  constantly  disputed  with  one  another  the  pos- 
session of  the' valley  that  lay  between  their  castles  ; 
but,  along  w  ith  this  enmity,  each  was  enamoured 
of  the  wife  of  the  other,  though  the  ladies  them- 
selves loved  their  own  lords,  and  gave  no  encou- 
ra<,'ement  to  the  enemies  of  their  liusbands.  At  this 
time  the  crusafh's  were  published  ;  and  both  of 
these  nobles  resolved  to  forget  private  animosities 
for  a  timi',  and  join  the  standard  of  the  Cross.  It 
so  hajtpeiied,  however,  that  after  travelling — the 
trndition  does  not  sav  whether  in  compaiiv  or  not— 
during  several  days,  the  devil  intered  into  both 
their  liearts,  and  they  both  reasoned  after  this 
manner  : — "  My  enemy  has  gone  to  the  Holy  Wars, 
and  has  left  both  his  lands  and  his  wife  unpro- 
tected. 1  hate  him,  l)ut  I  love  Ins  wife.  What 
hindei-s  me  from  returning,  and  making  the  most  of 
his  absence  ?"  And  so  both  the  lord  of  Epesche  and 
;he  lord  of  Lomine  returned,  and  took  the  road,  not 
ti)  their  own  castles,  but  to  the  castles  of  lach  other. 

J{ut  it  so  liaiii>eiie<l,  that  on  the  very  night  upon 
which  these  two  nobles  left  their  own  castles,  their 
ladies  had  a  vision.  Each  was  warned,  in  a  dream, 
of  the  intention  of  her  husband  to  return,  and  ]io 
to  the  castle  of  his  enemy,  that  he  might  tind  his 
I'uemy's  wife  ;  and  this  vision  being  often  repeated, 
these*  nob!<'  dames  resolved — instigated,  no  doubt, 
l>y  the  same  kiml  power  that  had  sent  the  vision — 


to  seek  each  other,  and  communicate  what  had 
ha}>]>ened.  Accordingly,  these  ladies  left  their  own 
castles  to  cross  the  valley,  and  met  each  other  by 
the  way  ;  and  having  communicated  the  mutual 
vi.sion,  they  resolved  upon  a  method  of  avoidin*;  the 
danger,  and  of  at  the  same  time  proving  to  their 
lords  their  own  atfection,  and  the  Divine  interposi- 
tion by  which  tliey  had  been  warned  of  the  future. 
They  (letermined  to  change  castles  ;  and  that  very 
day  they  put  their  resolution  into  effect. 

Meanwhile,  their  lords  arrived  under  cover  of 
nitrht,  each  at  the  castle  of  his  enemv,  and  were 
greatly  surprised  to  tind  that  no  wonder  was  excited 
by  their  return,  for  the  ladies  had  forewarned  their 
household  of  what  was  to  be  expected  ;  but  still 
greater  was  their  surprise,  when,  u])on  being 
ushered  into  the  castle  hall,  eacli  beheld  his  own 
spouse.  The  explanation  that  followed  wrought  a 
miraculous  change.  Touched  with  the  atfection  of 
tlieir  own  wives,  they  were  convinced  that  this  re- 
conciliation was  the  will  of  God,  since  its  means 
had  been  miraculously  revealed  in  a  vision.  They 
abjured  their  mutual  enmity — swore  unalterable 
fidelity  to  their  own  wives — and  set  out  in  company 
for  the  Holy  Land. 

It  was  nearly  dark  before  we  arrived  at  Bagneres 
de  Bigorre,  where,  the  reader  will  recollect,  I  have 
already  conducted  him.  The  distance  had  ])roved 
greater  than  it  vvas  said  to  be,  which  is  always  the 
case  with  unmeasured  distances  ;  and  we  had  been 
several  times  obliged  to  deviate  from  our  course, 
in  order  to  tind  convenient  fords  across  streams, 
narrow,  but  deep  and  rapid.  A  tired  and  hungry 
traveller  cannot  arrive  at  a  better  i)lace  than  Bag- 
neres de  Bigorre,  for  there  is  nothing  he  desires 
that  cannot  be  obtained  there. 

Next  morning  1  left  Bagneres  for  Lourdes.  This 
is  a  truly  charming  road.  It  lies  all  the  way  along 
the  foot  of  the  Pyrenees,  among  the  loveliest  scenes, 
created  by  gentle  undulations,  and  verdant  knolls, 
and  meadows,  and  cottages  ;  and  the  Pyrenees, 
with  their  clefts  and  shadows,  and  scattered  woods, 
rising  on  the  left.  Of  Lourdes,  I  need  add  nothing 
to  what  1  have  already  observed  on  my  way  to  St. 
Sauveur.  I  left  it  for  Pau  the  next  morning  ;  and 
having;  now  descended  from  the  mountains,  and  the 
weather  being  insutferably  hot,  1  hired  a  m'tclic 
for  my  journey. 

The  banks  of  the  Gave,  along  which  the  road  lies 
all  the  way  from  Lourdes  to  Pau,  are  of  the  most 
j>icturesqiie  description.  We  are  no  longer  among 
mountains,  but  among  wooded  hills,  generally  clothed 
to  the  summit  ;  and  the  green  beauty  of  the  tields 
that  lay  along  the  river-side,  reminded  me  of  the 
Semmeiithall  in  Switzerland.  Passhig  near  the 
Lac  de  Lourdes,  which  1  had  already  visited,  I 
reached  St.  J**' ;  which  was  founded  in  10:V2,  by 
William  duke  of  (jascony,  because  he  had  re- 
covered his  health  in  a  journey  which  he  made  in 
these  j)ai'ts  ;  and  at  the  same  time  he  founded  and 
endowed  a  monastery  of  Benedictines,  which  he 
dedicated  to  God  and  St.  Peter  ;  and  so  the  town 
obtained  the  name  of  St.  Pe.  The  duke  of  Gasconv 
filled  the  convent  with  rich  offerings,  which  have 
long  since  been  l)etter  employed.  St.  Pe  contains 
abinit  three  thousand  inhabitants  ;  and,  besides  the 
laboui-s  of  agriculture,  which  are  limited  by  the 
quantity  of  forest  that  lies  in  the  vicinity,  they 
occupy  themselves  in  the  manufacture  of  combs  and 
of  cufico,  and    also   find  employment  in  the    iron 


P' 


■li' 


108 


TAU. 


[chap.  XXXVI. 


-J 


mines  of  Loub'w.  Tlie  Hituation  of  St.  Pe  is  beauti- 
ful. Soon  after  })asHing  St.  Pe,  we  leave  the  de- 
partment of  the  High  I'yrenees,  and  enter  the  Low 
Pyrenees. 

Another  league  brought  us  to  Bdharam,  a  place 
of  mueh  interest  to  the  devotees  of  the  neighV)our- 
hood,  owing  to   its  Mount  Calvary.      Ht-re,  after   I 
had  brcaktasted,  I  walked  n\\  this  hill  l)y  a  /ig-zag 
path,  at  every  corner  of  which  is  a  stdtion,  or  little 
chapel,  in  which  the  most  grotesque  and  ludicrous 
groui)s  in  wo(»d  represt'iit  the  different  circumstances 
in  the  passion  of  our   Saviour.     This  was  not  the 
season  of  pilgrimage  ;  but  I  was  informed,  that,  in 
the  month  of  September,  a  vast  concourse  of  devo- 
tees C(mie  hither,  to  warm  their  devotion,  and  pur- 
chase holy  trinkets.     The  sale  of  these  is,  however, 
never  suspended.     A   long  table  is  placed  at  the 
foot  of  the  ascent,  covered    with  rosaries,  crosses, 
rings  and  anmlets,  all  blessed  at  some  shrine  ;  and, 
as  the  woman  who  sold  them  assured  me,  some  of 
them  even  blessed  by  his  holiness  himself.    But  the 
walk  to  the  summit  of  this  mount  does  not  require 
any    adventitious   attraction  ;    it    is    pleasant    and 
sliady,  and  the  view  from  the  platform  is  itself  worth 
the  ascent.    At  this  [)lace,  where  there  are  so  many 
helps  to  morality,  1  was  robbed  of  some  triHes,  the 
first  time  I  ever  suffered  the  smallest  depredation 
in  France  ;  and  I  think  it  only  just  to  record  here, 
my  belief  in  the  great  honesty  of  the  Freiu-h  peo- 
ple, who   cannot   be  eharged   with  that  disposition 
towards  petty  theft,  which  so  disgraces  the   people 
of  most   oth»-r    countries.     This   superior   htmesty 
may  be  partly  owing   to  a  natural   virtue  ;  but   1 
suspect  tliat  the  ditterence  in  morals,  and  especially 
in  the  jtrevalence  of  robl)ery,  is,  in  most   cases,  to 
be  attributed  chieily  to  the  difference  in  the  eondi- 
tion  of  the  peoph'.     This  sutticiently  ex[ilains  the 
difference  between  France  and   England,  in  a  com- 
parison of  the   (juantity  of  crime  in  the  two  coun- 
tries ;  for,  in  the  fonner  country,  and  especially  in 
the  south,  where  the  necessaries  of  life  are  so  much 
more   easily   obtained    than    in   England,  there    is 
small  comparative  temptation  towards  dei)redations 
upon  the  property  of  others.     However,  an  excep- 
tion was  found   at  St.   Pe.     I   left  a  small  basket 
containing    some    trifling    articles   in    the    oiftclw, 
which   stood  at  the   door  of  the  auberge   while   1 
breakfast»'d  ;  and   when  1  examined   the   basket,   I 
found  all  that   was  worth   stealing  had    been   ab- 
stracted—among other  things,  a  ])ui-se   with  some 
silver,  and  a  <iuantity  of  copper  which  I  hatl  placed 
there,  because  it  was  too  heavy  to  carry  in  any 
other  way.     The  oninn'o'Sdlri'  said  he  could  recover 
the  property    for  me  ;   but  the  articles   were    not 
of  sufficient  value  to  make  it  worth  while   to   delay 
my  journey  on  their  account. 

Between  Betharam  and  Pan,  the  country  is 
beautiful,  and  entirely  changes  its  eliaracter.  The 
mountains  are  all  left  behind.  We  are  traversing 
the  rich  vales  of  Beam  ;  every  inch  of  land  is  cul- 
tivated ;  and  the  road  is  a  constant  suecession  of 
villages  and  houses.  Tlie  principal  produce  of  this 
country  is  fruit,  wine,  and  Indian  corn,  all  of  which 
grow  in  great  perfection.  It  is  from  this  district 
that  the  prunes  so  much  ])ri/ed  in  England  are 
grown  and  i)repared  ;  and  every  description  of  fruit 
that  is  produced  in  the  lower  parts  of  Beam  is  ex- 
cellent of  its  kind.  Here,  too,  we  find  tlu*  vine,  not 
as  it  is  found  in  the  other  parts  (»f  France- -an  in- 
significant shrub  covering  the  acclivities,  luid  pos- 


sessing not  much  greater  beauty  than  a  p<»tato-field  ; 
])ut  tniine<l  from  tr(«e  to  tree,  as  in  S(tme  ])arts  of 
Italv  and  in  the  Tyrol.  The  vine  is  then  the  most 
beautiful  of  plants'^  with  its  interlacing  twigs,  an.l 
broad  leaves,  and  rich  clusters. 

Along  gr»'at  part  of  the  road,  rows  of  trees  are 
planted"";  and  the  vine,  trained  all  the  way  along 
from  tree  to  tre(>,  forms  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
fences.  This  district,  excepting  the  valleys  of  the 
Pyrenees,  is  certainly  the  most  beautiful  })art  of 
France  ;  and  although  we  are  no  longer  among  the 
I'yrenees,  they  are  seen  bounding  the  horizon  on 
the  south,  and  not  at  so  great  a  distance  as  to  de- 
i>rive  lis  of  the  effect  of  their  shadows  and  inecjuali- 
ties.  It  was  Sunday  as  I  approached  Pan  ;  and  I 
saw,  therefore,  to  the  greatest  advantage,  the-  i)ea- 
santry  of  those  parts  dressed  in  their  holiday-clothes, 
and  engaged  in  those  rural  pastimes  which  are  per- 
mitted on  that  day  by  the  faith  which  they  i)rofesK. 
1  reached  Pan  before  dinner,  and  alighted  at  the 
h6Ul  dc  la  Porte,  the  best  in  the  town. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

I'Af. 

Ejniroius  of  Pau— Pan  as  a  Residence— The  Chateau  of 
ilenri  Quatre— The  King's  Cradle— Journey  from  Pau  to 
Itourdeaux— French  Accommodation— First-rate  and  Infe- 
rior Inns 

Pai'  h.as  always  enjoyed  the  rej)utation  of  being  one 
<tf  the  most  iuteri'sting  cities  of  the  south  of  France  ; 
and  altogether,   1  think,   it  deserves  its  reputation. 
It  lies  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  most  abun- 
dant countries  in  Eurojte,  in  one  of  the   finest  cli- 
mates ;    and    the    city    itself   is    clean,   airy,   and 
abounds  in  every  convi'uit'nce,  and  in  most  luxuries. 
As   for   the    environs  of  Pau,  they  are  certainly 
beautiful.       The    Cave    seri>entines    through    the 
channing   undulating    country  that   sm-rounds   the 
town.     Crain,  meatiows,   and   vine,    diversify    the 
scenery  ;    and     innumerable    country-houses    are 
everywhere  scattered  around.      I  wiis  particidarly 
delighted    with    the     number    and    extraordinary 
beauty  of  the  weeping-willows,  which  ornament  a 
beautiful  slope  that   lies   to   the   south   of  the   city, 
and  which  hang  also  above  the  river.    Nothing  can 
exceed  the  beauty  of  some   of  the    promenades   in 
the    neighbourhood    of   Pau.     Some   lie  along  the 
side    of   the    Cave,   othtrs   along    the   bank    of  the 
smaller  river  Kees  ;  and  within  the  town  there  is 
a  largt'  and  shaded  platform,  which  commands  a 
magnilicent   view    over   the    surrounding  country. 
Pau   is  a  great  resort  for   strangers,  particularly 
English  ;  and  with  the  excejjtion  t»f  Buyonne,  upon 
whose  advantages  1  have  alrea<ly  expatiated,  Pau 
I   think   the   most   desirable    of  any  of    the    towns 
which  are  selected   by   foreigners  as   a  n-sidenci'. 
There  are  abundance  of  excellent  houses  to  be  ob- 
tiiined  at  a  very  moderate  expense  ;  and  the  mar- 
kets are  both  abundant  and   cheap.      Meat  seldom 
exceeds  ^jd.  per  lb. ;  fowls  are  not  inore  than  Is.  .'M. 
per  pair  ;  fisli  from  the  rivers  are  very  abundant  ; 
and  fruit  and  vegetabli'S  are  nowhere  to  be  found 
in  greater  variity  (»r  jn'rfection.     Excellent  wine  is 
a!)(»ut  3<1.  per  bottle.     There  are  generally  fifty  or 
sixtv  English  faniilii's  in    Pau  and  its  neighbour- 
hood, and  the   number,  1  understand,   is  upon  the 
increase. 


CHAP,  xxxvii.] 


BOURDEAUX. 


109 


The  chief  interest  of  Pau  arises  from  its  having 
been  the  birth-place  of  Henry  IV.,  and  from  the 
castle,  which  is  still  to  be  seen  nearly  in  the  con- 
dition in  which  he  left  it.  The  castle  of  JJenri 
Quatrt'  is  of  more  ancient  date  than  the  town.  The 
princes  of  Beam,  in  former  times,  had  their  resi- 
dence at  Morlaas  ;  but  being  obliged  to  make  fre- 
quent head  against  the  Saracens,  who  were  then 
accustomed  to  make  fierce  im-oads  from  Spain,  they 
resolved  upon  building  a  chateau,  that  might  serve 
at  once  for  observation  and  pleasure  ;  and  to  this 
the  chateau  of  Jfrnri  (^witrt^  owes  its  origin.  Its 
name  was  originally  Paou,  a  Bernese  word  for 
xtiik^,  owing  to  stakes  having  been  driven  in  to 
mark  the  spot  upon  which  the  castle  was  to  be 
erected  ;  and  this  word  gave;  tlu»  naine  of  Pau  to 
the  citv  which  was  founded  in  the  neighbourhood, 
about  th(>  middle  of  the  tenth  centm-y.  The  site  of 
the  castle  is  finely  chosen.  From  the  towi>rs  of  the 
castle,  and  even  from  the  windows,  a  ravishing 
jn'ospect  is  disclosed.  The  whole  province  of 
Hi^ixm — certainly  one  of  the  most  fertile  in  the 
world— lies  like*  a  map  below  ;  and  the  majestic 
range  of  the  Pyrenees  is  the  back-ground  of  this 
ricir])icture.  When  the  atmosphere  is  clear,  the 
Brcche  de  Roland  can  be  discovered  from  the 
summit. 

1  was  not  long  in  Pau  before  paying  a  visit  to 
the  castle,  the  birth-j)lace  of  that  monarch. 

"  (Jui  fnt  de  ses  ^ujet.s  le  vaimiueur  et  le  pere." 

Every  thing  remains  as  of  old.  The  ancient 
portrait's  are  there — the  old  furniture  ;  and  even 
the  cnidle  of  the  king  is  seen  in  the  chamber  where 
he  was  born.  The  monarch  alone  is  wanting  :  his 
statue,  which  stands  in  the  vestibule,  is  meant  to 
sni)}.ly  his  i)lace.  The  cradle  of  the  king  is  of  tor- 
toiseshell  ;  and  during  the  revolution  it  narrowly 
escaped  destruction.  It  was  resolved,  at  the  time 
of  the  revolution,  by  the  infuriated  madmen  who 
imitated  the  exami»le  of  the  Parisians,  to  burn  this 
relic  as  a  pul)lic yV/f.  But,  fortunately,  an  iidiabi- 
tant  of  the  town,  ^I.  de  Beaumjard,  was  in  possession 
of  a  cradle  of  the  siime  material,  and  not  unlik 
that  preserved  in  the  castle.  This  gentleman  com- 
municated with  the  porter  of  the  chateau  ;  and 
having  secretly  introduced  his  own  cr-adle  into  the 
castle,  it  was  afterwards  brought  out  as  the  true 
cradle,  and  was  burnt  in  the  square  by  the  infu- 
riated ])opnlace  ;  and  thus  the  cradle  of  Uenn 
(^uatn-  was  ])reserved. 

But  although  this  relic  has  been  preserved,  the 
castle  itself  suttered  greatly  during  the  time  of  the 
revolution.  It  was  at  that  time  used  as  military 
(piarters  ;  and  the  sculpture  which  once  embellished 
the  walls  of  the  interior  is  so  nmch  mutilated  and 
destroyed— partly  perhaps  intentionally,  and  partly 
by  the  effects  of  tinu — that  the  subjects  of  it  are  no 
longer  discernible.  In  oth.-r  n-spects,  the  castle 
has-been  repaired,  and  the  repairs  have  amounted 
to  u[»wards  of  700,000  francs.  At  a  short  distance 
from  the  town,  ascending  the  Gave,  and  turning 
towards  the  m<.untains,  are  the  ruins  of  the  chateau 
of  Coaraze,  the  outer  walls  and  one  of  the  towers  of 
which  are  yet  standing.  There,  the  early  childhood 
of  Henry  iV.  was  jmssed,  under  the  care  of  the 
baroness  de  Moissens,  his  governess.  That  was  a 
fine  wish  (.f  this  noble-minded  king,  expressed  in 
these  words  :— "  Je  veux,  que  le  moindre  paysan 
mette  une  poule  dans  son  pot  le  Dinianche." 


The  inhabitants  of  Pau  have  not  to  travel  so  far 
as  the  Jlxnhs  Pyrim^es  to  benefit  *by  medicinal 
s|)rings.  Lii<  eaux  bonius  and  U^  eaux  chaiide^,  are 
both  within  eight  leagues  of  Pau  ;  and  thither,  ac- 
cordingly, many  inhabitants  repair  during  "  the 
season."*  But  the  English  generally  take  the  longer 
journey  to  Bagneres  de  Bigorre,  which  is  more 
fashionable.  Les  eaux  bonnes  and  Us  eaux  chaudes 
have  long  been  known.  In  1591,  the  sister  of 
Henrv  IV.  visited  them  ;  and  previous  to  this  time, 
M.  de  Thou,  who  measured  the  altitude  of  the  Py- 
renees, had  visited  them,  and  drank  twenty-five 
glasses  of  water  every  day. 

Having  satisfied  my  curiosity  at  Pau,  I  left  it  en 
dllhienre  for  Bourdeaux.   Most  of  this  journey  being 
performed  during  the  night,  I  cannot  enter  much 
into  detail  ;  but  I  do  not  greatly  err  in  saying,  that 
the  road  from  Pau  to  Bourdeaux  lies  through  a  rich 
country  ;  and  that  the  banks  of  the  tiaronne,  which 
we  travelled  along,  afford  those  agreeable  and  rmnte 
views,  which  might  be  expected  from  the  magni- 
tude of  its  stream,  and  from  the  southern  latitude 
of  the   country   through    whii-h    it  Hows.     I   was 
greatly  surprised,  however,  in  this  very  fertile  and 
abundant  country,  to  find  so  great  a  scant  of  pro- 
visions in  the  inns.    Some  accident  had  happened  to 
the  diligence  from  Bourdeaux  to  Pau  ;  and  horses 
not  being  in  readiness  for  us  at  the  usual  stations, 
we  were  obliged  to  dine,  sup,  and  breakfast,.at  inns 
where  we  were  not  expected.     It  was  impossible  to 
avoid  contrasting  the  condition  of  these  inns  with 
the  inns  of  England  on  any  of  our  great  roads.  Tra- 
velling upon  any  of  our  great  roads,  one  could  find 
no  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  comfortable  dinner  at  any 
respectable  inn  ;  but,  in  this  journey  to  Bourdeaux, 
we  were  half- starved  ;  and  a  few  eggs,  and  one  or 
two  ill-fed  fowls,  were  all  that  could  be  procured  for 
a  very  numerous  c(mi})any  ;  and  when  the  diligence 
stopped  to  breakfast  at  a  town  of  some  considerable 
extent,  neither  cofiee  nor  milk  could  be  obtained  at 
the  inn  ;  and  I  was  obligid  to  run  over  half  the  town 
l)efore  being  able  to  procure  those  articles,  which, 
in   France,  are  considered  the  chief  necessaries  of 
life.     I  arrived  in  Bourdeaux  about  mid-day,  and 
established  mvself  in  an  excellent  apartment  in  the 
hotel  de  r Europe— the  best  among  the  many  good 
hotels  in  the  city.     I  always  go  to  the  best  hotel. 
There  is  nothing  gained  to  economy,  and  a  great 
deal  lost  to  comfort,  by  going  to  an  inferior  house. 
All  that  is  required  on  the  part  of  the  economical 
traveller,  who  goes  to  the  first  hotel,  is  to  ask  the 
price  of  his  apartment.     It  is  in  this  that  the  chief 
ditierence  in  expense  consists  ;  for  great  establish- 
ments have  apartments  of  all  ijrad*!S. 


'w 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


BOURDEAUX. 

Bourdeaux  little  visited— Historical  Sketch— Climate  and 
Air  of  Bourdeaux— The  Quay  and  Bridge— Table  of  the 
Comparative  Dimensions  of  Brid^^es- The  Theatre— The 
New  Hospital— Clmrches— Learned  Societies— Puhlic  In- 
struction—Antiquities— Situation  and  Environs— Condi- 
tion of  the  Peasantry— The  Inhabitants  of  the  Landes— 
Society  in  Bourdeaux— The  Chateau  de  Montesquieu. 

Bourdeaux  is  less  visited  by  the  traveller  than  any 
other  great  city  in  Europe,  excepting  the  Spanish 


1^1 


110 


BOURDEAUX. 


[chap.  XXXVII. 


cities  ;  and  thv  rcasnn  nt  iliis  it  ia  not  difficult  to 
,  vj.laiii.  1  <h>  iK't  speak  of  mercantile  men,  who 
visit  liounli'iiux  upon  Imsiness  ;  l)Ut  of  travellers 
who  nuiki'  a  r<>t^(i<i>-  iCajrhiient.  Buunh-aux  is  not 
on  tlu'  road  either  to  Vienna,  or  Switzerland,  or 
Italy.  If  one  goes  to  Bourdcaux,  it  must  be  to  see 
Honrdcaux,  and  nothiiiL,'  else  ;  for  to  include  Bour- 
doaux  in  a  tour  to  aiiv  other  country,  would  be  a 
(/t/(.//r  of  many  hundred  miles.  And  yet  I  know 
very  few  cities  in  Europe  more  ma<j:nificent  than 
this  niaritime  capitiil  of  France  ;  and  t(»  the  Eng- 
lish it  possesses  a  peculiar  interest,  owing  to  its 
connectiou  with  tluit  article  which  has  become  one 
of  the  chief  luxuries  of  our  En«glish  population. 
1  trust,  therefore,  that  a  more  detailed  account  of 
Hounleaux,  than  1  am  genenilly  in  the  habit  of 
giving  of  cities,  may  not  be  considered  unac-ceptable. 

It  is  not  ascertained  at  what  epoch  Bourdcaux 
was  founded.  Some  historians  have  fixed  the  datt- 
in  the  days  of  Taniuin  ;- others  have  sujtposed 
that  it  was  foimded  by  tlu-  I'luenicians,  four  cen- 
turies before  the  vulgar  «ra.  Something,  1  believe, 
is  to  b(>  said  in  favour  of  each  of  these  (»pinions  ; 
but  the  best-founded  conjectur(>  is  considered  to  be 
tluit  which  places  the  tbumlatiou  of  the  city  shoilly 
after  the  invasion  and  con(iuest  of  the  (iauls  by 
Julius  C'a'sar.  Like  every  other  great  city,  its  be- 
gimiings  wi-re  small  ;  and,  in(h>ed,  although  often 
partially  rebuilt  and  improved,  its  present  splen- 
dour is  t<.  be  dated  only  as  far  back  as  the  reign  of 
Louis  XV.  In  its  early  years,  Bourdcaux  was 
successively  subject  to  the  Visigoths,  the  Tranks, 
the  Saracens,  and  the  Normans- the  kings  of 
France — the  kings  of  A<iuitania-  tlu'  dukes  of 
Guienne  and  Gascoiiy— and,  at  length,  i>assed  un- 
der the  sovereignty  of  Henry  of  IMantagenet,  duke 
of  Normandy,  and  count  of  Anjou,  presumjttive 
heir  to  the  English  crown  ;  and,  after  long  pro- 
tracted wars,  Bourdcaux,  and  the  whole  of  ( Juitume, 
con(iuered  by  Charles  VIL,  were  finally  annexed 
to  the  French  cr«>\\  n. 

The  etymology  of  the  ancient  luune  Jjard'ujala, 
or,  according  t<)  Strabo,  Jiunhrahi,  has  not  been 
explained.  The  modern  w«)rd  Bourdcaux  admits 
of  an  easy  explanation  ;  for  it  is  almost  literally 
Uyrd  (It.^  <'(iu;  or,  Imji-Jc  (remix,  which  is  truth  ;  but 
this  affords  no  exi»Ianation  of  the  ancient  Jhird'i- 
</a/(i,  or  liurdemla.  Bourdcaux  is,  in  fact,  sur- 
rounded by  waters.  On  the  wist  the  ( Jaronne  flows  ; 
on  the  west  and  south,  three  stnams,  called  the 
Jknzr,  I'l'iiijHf,  JnijJ'i^,  are  founil  ;  a-nd  on  the 
north  are  the  rivulets  called  the  Jwiird,'  and  the 
./a/A'.  And,  besides  all  these  running  streams, 
there  are  many  large  mai'shes  at  no  great  distance 
from  the  city. 

So  situated,  it  may  be  su])posed  that  Bourdcaux 
cannot  be  a  healthy  city.  The  winds  which  blow 
the  most  fre<iuently  are,  wtst,  south-west,  and 
north-west  ;  and  these,  blowing  t)ver  the  ocean  and 
tlu>  Landes,  must  necessiuily  be  charged  with  hu- 
miditv.  Acconlingly,  the  atmosphere  of  JJ(Uir- 
deaux  is  m«tst  conuuoidy  moist  and  mild.  During 
the  winters,  which  are  generally  niiny,  the  ther- 
mometer seldoni  descends  below  the  fifth  or  fourth 
degree  of  Reaumur.  In  summer,  it  i-anges  fn»m 
twenty  t«)  twenty-five  of  Jieaumur.  'I'liis  humid 
atmt»sphere,  and  high  temperature  during  tlu- sinn- 
mer,  together  with  the  \  icinity  of  tlu-  marshes,  is 
productive  of  fre<jueut  ejiidemics,  and  ot  \arious 
other  maladies  ;  among  which  the   most   frequent 


are,  colds  and  cough.s,  intermittent  fevers,  rheuma- 
tism, and  j.articularly  those  diseases  which  the 
French  call  }'hthis-'w  tid>ercdeusi-  des  a<iult(s,  et 
phthisu'  jHtuit,'H!fi  des  ritU/ards.  In  the  year  1«2(;, 
there  were  born  1«H7  males,  and  181)0  females  ;  in 
all,  3777  births.  In  the  same  year,  there  were 
married  m2  persons,  and  :i277  pei-sons  died. 

file  stranger  who,  for  the  first  time,  leaves  his 
hotel,  to  walk  through  the  streets  of  Bourdcaux, 
is  surpris<  d  with  its  magnificence.  The  s]>acious 
streets,  and  liandsouu-  buildings  that  line  them, 
and  the  spl.n.luiu  -.1  many  of  the  public  buildings, 
are  -.arerlN  \n  be  equalled  in  any  other  city  ;  and 
I  have  no  lie-itatien  in  :iiHrmiug,  that  the  <|uay  or 
]iort  of  Bourdeaux  pr. -t  nts  a  fo/'y/*<M7  more  .sj)len- 
did  and  imposing  than  any  thing  that  is  to  be  seen 
either  in  L(jndon  or  Paris*.  The  «iuay,  of  course, 
follows  the  curve  of  the  river,  and  is  coi\siderabIy 
more  than  three  miles  in  letigth.  The  whole  of 
this  vast  curve  is  composed  of  an  unbroken  cres- 
cent uf  lofty,  irregular,  and  geiici-ally  handsome 
buildhigs,  and  is  diversified  by  many  fine  towei-s 
and  spires  that  rise  Ix-IuikI  it.  The  (juay  itself  is 
broad  ;  and  the  river,  which  flows  beneath,  is  be- 
tween six  a'.id  seven  hundred  yards  in  breadth.  It 
may  easily  be  believed,  then,  that  viewing  this 
scene  from  any  opposite  ]ioint  from  which  the  eu> 
may  embrace  the  whol«-  extent  of  this  magnificint 
arch,  oric  cannot  hesitate  in  according  to  it  a  de- 
cided superiority  over  any  coup  d'ail  ])rcscnted  to 
us,  in  either  the  French  or  in  the  English  mctro- 
jiolis. 

The  streets  of  Bourdcaux  are  so  crowded,  there 
is  so  much  bustle  and  traffic,  and  the  inhabitants 
have  so  much  of  a  business-air,  that,  in  walking 
the  streets,  one  is  strongly  reminded  of  London, 
Few  loungers  are  to  be  si-en.  Every  one  walks  as 
if  he  had  somecrratul  ;  and  waggons, carts,  coaches, 
and  even  private  can-iages,  are  more  frequent  than 
in  any  j>rovincial  city  ov  town  that  I  can  at  this 
monu'nt  recollect,  with  the  excei)tion,  jicrhajis,  of 
Liverpool.  I  spent  tlu-  whole  of  the  hrst  day  I 
was  in  Bourdcaux  on  tlie  <iuay,  and  on  the  bridge 
called  Lc  pout  dc  Boiirdmux.  *  This  is  imdoubtedly 
a  magnificint  structure  ;  and  the  liordihus  are 
justly  proud  of  a  momnnent  which,  in  his  own  (/(■;/ /v, 
has  lU)  rival  in  Europe.  A  bridge  over  the  Garonne 
at  Bourdcaux  was  long  contem[.lated  before  it  was 
begun.  It  was  first  iirojiosed  by  the  marcchal  de 
Richelieu  ;  but  it  was  not  until  the  return  «)f  Louis 
XVI 11.  to  the  throm>  that  the  work  was  com- 
menced. The  chief  difhculties  which  oj)])()Scd  the 
construction  of  the  britlgi-,  we-re  the  depth  of  wa- 
ter, the  foree  of  the  currents,  and,  abovt-  all,  the 
instability  of  the  bed  of  the  river.  The  general 
depth  of  the  river  is  fn»m  eighteen  to  thii-ty  feet  ; 
and  the  flow  of  the  ti(U'  adds  eight(-en  ieet  to  this 
depth.  The  current,  with  an  ebbing  tide,  flows  at 
the  rate  of  wo  k^s  than  nine  feet  ])er  second — up- 
wards of  six  miles  per  hour  ;  and  the  bed  of  the 
liver  is  a  loose  sand,  and  far  from  a  level  surface. 
Countries  are  generally  jiroud  of  tlu-  length  ol 
their  bridgi-s.  The  Kngli-h  are  proud  of  \\  ater- 
loo-bridge  ;  the  Prussians,  of  the  bridge  over  the 
Elbe  ;  the  French  of  the  Font  de  B.  urdeaux  ;  and 
it  is  rather  a  wound  to  national  vanity,  ti)  tell  an 
Englishman  that  there  i?.  a  longer  than  Waterloo- 
bridge  ;  or  a  Frenchman,  that  the  Font  de  Bour- 
dcaux is  not  the  lonu»  st  in  the  world.  For  my 
own    i>art,  1  was  certainly  national  enough  to   be- 


CHAP.  XXXVIl.] 


BOURDEAUX. 


Ill 


lieve,  that  the  iengtii  and  breadth  of  Waterloo- 
bridge  exceeded  that  of  any  other  ;  and  did  feel 
some  little  disappointment  when  I  discovered  my 
error.  But  it  is  an  error  ;  and  I  am  therefore 
])ound  to  rectify  it.  The  following  will  show  at 
once  the  comparative  dimensions  t)f  the  most  re- 
markable bridges  in  Europe.  The  measurements 
I  state  in  French  metres  and  hundred  parts,  as  1 
obtained  them  from  a  French  work : 


I  Length  of 
N.VMKS  o.  BaxnoKS.  "^eTtt 
Butments. 


Bridge  of  Bourdeaux  7 
over  the  Garonne  S 

Waterloo  Bridge     - 


Bridge  of  Tours  over 
I  he  Loire 


met. 
486 

377 

434 


c. 

68 


18 


Breadth 
between 

the 
Parapet.-!. 

Num- 
ber of 
Arches. 

Diameter 

of 
Arches. 

Thick- 

ne.ss 

of 

Piers. 

met.     c. 

met.    c. 

met.  c. 

14       86 

17 

26     49 

4    21 

12       80 

9 

36      .. 

G      9 

14       60 

15 

24    40 

4    87 

7       60 

18 

Very 
nn-'qual. 

Un- 
equal. 

10      45 

18 

16     17 

10     .. 

Pontdela  Guilotierc?  !  k_„ 
across  the  Rhone  i  j 

Bridge    of    Dresden  >     . ,, 
across  the  Elbe i[Z_ 

From  this  table,  then,  it  a])iiears,  that  the  Pont 
de  liourdeaux  is  one  hundred  and  nine  vards  ion- 
ger  than  Waterloo-bridge  ;  and  that  the  Pont  de 
la  Guilotiere  is  eighty-four  yards  litnger  than  the 
Pont  de  Bourdcaux.  In  Invadth,  the  Pont  de 
Bourdcaux  and  the  Pont  de  Tours  have  both  the 
advantage  of  Watci'loo-bridge.  But  the  elegance 
of  a  bridge  depending  chiefly  upon  the  span  of  the 
arches,  it  is  ])robable  that  Waterloo-bridge  nuiy 
still  be  the  most  beautifid,  though  infei'ior  both  in 
length  and  in  breadth  to  the  Pont  de  Bourdcaux. 

lint  wherever  the  ] (reference  may  be  due,  the 
bridge  of  Bourdcaux  is  a  beautiful  structure,  and 
not  only  an  ornament,  but  a  most  essential  conve- 
nience to  the  city.  This  convenience  is  brought 
very  forcibly  befuv  the  notice  of  the  ti'aveller  who 
journeys  from  Bourdcaux  to  Paris  ;  for,  after 
passing  along  the  Pont  de  Bourdcaux  at  the  rate 
at  which  a  French  diligence  travels,  he  ai'rives  at 
the  Dordogne,  across  which  there  is  no  bridge  ;  and 
although  he  is  ferried  across  by  a  very  convenient 
nuKdiiue,  the  delay  and  discotnfort  of  a  ferry  are 
very  strongly  cuutrasted  with  the  convenience  of  a 
bridge. 

1  believe  the  construction  of  this  bridge  is  sin- 
gular, and  to  architects  iiUeresting.  There  are 
arched  galleries  between  the  top  of  the  arches  and 
the  level  of  the  bridge,  through  which  one  is  able 
to  walk  from  one  end  to  the  other.  The  whole 
interior  is  a  continuation  of  arches  ;  and  there  is, 
besides,  an  a<iueduct,  by  which  the  waters  which 
rise  in  the  heights  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river 
are  conveyed  to  the  city.  The  view  of  the  (juay, 
from  about  the  centre  of  the  bridge,  is  sui)erb. 
This  is  the  best  position  from  which  it  can  be 
viewed,  excepting,  iterhai)s,  the  heights  that  rise 
aV)ont  a  mile  fn)m  the  right  bank  of  the  river.  I 
have  seldom  returned  from  a  walk  more  gratified 
than  from  this  promenade  upon  the  quay  and  the 
bridge  of  Bourdcaux. 

The  same  evening  I  went  to  the  theatre,  called 
Le  grand  T/ieatre — a  name  it  well  deserves,  for  it 
is  a  great  work  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  There 
is  no  theatre  in  any  other  city  so  magnificent  as 
the  great  theatre  of  Bourdcaux,  whether  its  dimen- 
sions be  regardcfl,  or  the  beauty  of  its  architec- 
ture. This  edifice  was  erected  in  the  reign  of 
Louis  XVI.     Three  years  only  were  employed  in 


its  construction,  and  the  expense  amounted  to  about 
170,000/.  sterling.  The  facade  is  a  magnificent 
colonnade,  in  the  Corinthian  order.  Pilastres  of 
the  same  order  ornament  the  sides.  Every  thing 
about  this  building  is  in  miison  with  its  splendid 
exterior.  Its  staircase,  ligiit  and  aerial,  and  adorned 
with  Ionic  columns — its  interior,  both  vast  and 
beautiful,  ornamented  by  columns  of  the  Composite 
order — its  cupola, its  galleries,  its  saloons,  its  cafes — 
all  are  beautiful  and  harmonious.  There  is  a  con- 
trivance by  which  the  floor  of  the  }>it  is  made  level 
with  the  sttige  at  jileasure  ;  by  means  of  which  con- 
trivance, the  building  serves  both  as  a  theatre  and 
a  ball-room.  But  beautiful  as  this  theatre  is,  the 
people  of  Bourdcaux  do  not  sujiport  it.  It  is  often 
almost  deserted,  and  is  never  well  filled.  This  is 
certainly  surprising,  considering  the  known  ])ar- 
tiality  of  the  French  for  theatrical  entei'tainments, 
and  in  a  citv  so  wealthv  as  Bourdi-aux.  On  the 
night  when  I  was  present,  at  a  representation  of  a 
ti*agedy,  the  boxes  were  nearly  empty,  and  the  pit 
was  not  much  more  than  half  full  ;  and  although 
the  ])erformance  was  highly  respectable,  the  au- 
dience appeared  to  pay  very  little  attention  to  it. 
But  the  bal/et  which  followed  the  })lay  was  much 
more  honoured.  Every  one  gave  his  serious  atten- 
tion to  it ;  and  the  interest  excited  was  shown  iti  the 
aj)])lause  also  which  it  received.  Even  if  there 
were  no  representation,  the  theatre  of  Bourdcaux 
would  be  worth  visiting,  owing  to  the  magnificence 
of  its  interior. 

But  the  theatre  of  Bourdcaux  is  not  the  only 
building  in  this  city  that  is  superior  to  any  edifice 
dedicated  to  the  same  purpose  in  any  other  city. 
The  new  ho.spital  is  also  u|)on  a  scale  (tf  magnifi- 
cence and  comfort  beyond  what  is  to  be  found  in 
any  other  town  in  Europe.  I  dedicated  the  second 
of  mv  davs  at  Bourdcaux  to  a  visit  to  this  iiospital, 
and  was  equally  surprised  at  its  extent,  and  de- 
lighted with  the  admirable  arrangements  that  per- 
vade every  part  of  it.  There  is  nothing  that  this 
hos])ital  does  not  contain.  It  includes  seven  hun- 
dred and  ten  beds  for  sick  persons,  and  eighteen 
chambers  for  the  accommodation  of  ])ei>i;ons  who 
pay  for  the  attentions  they  receive.  It  contains 
baths,  bake-houses,  courts,  an  a])othecarv's-shop, 
water-re.servoirs,  gardens,  and  acconnnodation  for 
medical  men.  There  are  also  in  the  hospital  thirty- 
four  re-servoii-s  for  water,  as  a  provision  against 
fire,  containing  fourteen  huiulred  and  ten  hogs- 
heads. I  need  scarcely  add,  that,  in  the  cleanliness 
of  every  de})artment,  the  hospital  is  ])ei*fect  ;  and 
that,  in  the  smallest  minuticc,  every  thing  is  found 
that  can  contribute  cither  to  health  or  to  comfort. 
The  Bordelais  are  justly  proud  of  this  noble  insti- 
tution. 

There  are  many  fine  churches  in  Bourdcaux, 
particularly  the  church  of  St.  Andre,  whose  towers, 
in  the  Gothic  stvle,  are  trulv  beautiful.  The  church 
of  St.  Michael  also  is  well  worthy  of  a  vi.sit  :  but 
descriptions  of  churches  are  tedious,  and  I  always 
avoid  them  if  })ossible. 

Bourdcaux  possesses  many  societies  for  the  en- 
couragement of  science  and  literature,  particularly 
the  Royal  Academy,  the  Limuean  Society,  the 
Royal  Medical  Society,  and  the  Mu$te  dela  VUU'de 
BoiirdrdK.r,  which  includes  the  library,  the  cabinet 
of  natural  history,  and  the  gallery  of  i)ictures.  The 
library  had  its  origin  at  the  time  of  the  destruction 
of  the  convents,  when  the  libraries  w hich  belonged 


BOURDEAUX. 


[chap.  XXXVIl. 


to  tlu-in  vveiv  remcvod,  and  united  into  one.      It 
contains  about  a  hundred   thousand  voUiineB,  and 
manv  rare  works  and   nianuscni-t^^.      Among  tlie 
latter  is  the  fir^t  French  translat!<m  ut  Livy   made 
hv  order  of  kin-  d<.hn,  and   is  beautifully  ilUnni- 
nated       ThtM-o  is  also  a  copy  of  Montaigne  8  Lasays, 
,,,i,n.'d    in    Paris  in   the   year   loHH,    the  niarpns 
covered  with  corroctions  and  notes  by  the  author. 
This  was  intended  bv  Montaigne  as  the  basis  ot  a 
new  edition  of  his  w<;rks,to  be  published  under  his 
own  eve;  and  this  intention  was  earned  mtoettect, 
after  his  death,  bv  Nai-^-'n,  who,  with  the  assistance 
of  this  copy,  publishe<l  his  edition  in   tour  vohimes 
Hvo.,  with  "ail  th.>  a<lditions  and  corrections  which 
Montaigne  proposed  to  have  added. 

The  cabinet  of  natural  history  is  not  without  its 
attractions.     The  conchologist  especially  will  hnd 
there  a  most   interesting  display.     The  gallery  of 
pictures  couuuas,  as  yet.  Utile  to  attract  the  ama- 
teur. ,  .,  ^ 
Public    instruction   in    B(»urdeaux   is    upon    the 
very  best  footing.     The  ni..st  important  establish- 
ment for  education  is  the  Royal  College  ot   Bour- 
deaux,  in  which  the  following  branches  ot  knowledge 
are  taught,  gi-atuitously -the   Latin,   Greek,  and 
Fren.-h  lan-uai:es,  natural   and  moral  philosophy, 
rhetoric,  natui-al  history,  geograi.hy,    chronology, 
mvtholo.'v,  ancient  and  inodi-rn   history,  writuig, 
arithmetic,  and  drawing.      The  living   languages 
music,  drawing,  and  fep.cing,are  also  taught  to  such 
of  the  pupils  as  pay  for  instruction  in  them.   Books, 
paper,  &e.,  are  all  furnished  to  the  scholars  by  the 
colle-e;     and    along    with    mental    improvement, 
bodifv  health   is  not  neglected.     There  is  an  mhr- 
marv  attached  to  the  college,  where  the  best  medi- 
cal advice,  and  all  re<iuisite  attentions,  are  provided. 
Besides  this  college,  Bourdeaiix  possesses  also  a 
Roval  Medical  Academy,  a  School  of  Botany,  with  a 
garden  attached  to  it,a  Royal  I  nstitution  (gmtuitous) 

for  the  Deaf  an<l  Dumb,  in  which  thes--  uniortunates 
are  educated,maintaiiied,and  taught  whatever  trade  . 
mav  suit  their  inclinations;    a   (Jratuitous  Sclm.d  ] 
of  Design  and  I'ainting  ;  a  Commercial  School,  and  j 
particularlv   an    Establishment   for  the    Improve- 
ment of  Agriculture,  called  Fcrnw  hq>,rimniUde    X 
company  of  pei-sons,  zeab.us  f.,r  the  adoption  of  the 
best  system  of  husbandry,  formed  themselves  int<. 
a  society,  and,  in    MVl'S,  obtained  a  royal  charter 
Produce  of  every  kind,  the  culture  ot  forest  and 
fruit-trees,  and  tfie  breeding  of  cattle,  all  enter  the 
views  of  the  s<.cietv  ;  and  parcels  of  land  are  lent 
to  individuals  who  may  be  desirous  of  trying  any 
thing  novel,  upon  their  own  charges. 

I  could  enumerate  many  other  societies  existing 
in  Bourdeaux,  having  for  their  object  the  improve- 
ment of  man's  hitellectual  and  moral  condition  ;  but 
enumerations  of  this  kind  are  tedious,  and  convey 
little  information,  and  less  entertainment. 

The  antiiiuarian  will  find  in  liourdeaux  some 
remains  of  anticiuity.  Amr>ng  othei-s  there  are  the 
ruins  of  an  amphitheatre,  ot  which,  however,  little 
remains  excepting  the  gate  ;  the  remains  of  the 
palace  of  the  ancient  dukes  of  A.iuitama  ;  some 
vestiges  of  a  temple  of  Diana  ;  oi  a  tountain  ;  of 
another  temple,  and  of  the  ancient  port.  But  it 
requires  the  mania  of  anticiuariamsm  fully  to  enjoy 
these  vestiges  of  other  days. 

The  situation  of  Bourdeaux  is  very  remarkable. 
Let  a  stranger  sail  down  the  Garonne,  and  so  arnve 
in  Bourdeaux,  or  let  him  descend  the  heights  that 


lie  between  the  Dordogne  and   Bourdeaux,  and  he 
would  8av,in  either  case,  that  Bourdeaux  >^a^  «'t"- 
ated  111  liie  midst  of  fertility  and  beauty.     But  let 
him  arrive  n.   this  city  from  the  west,  having  tra- 
versed the  Lu,M^;  or  let  him  disembark  near  the 
mouth  of  the  (r.nnvU,  and  travel  up  its  banks,  and 
he  will  feel  astonishment  that  a  city  bo  great  and 
magnificent  a.    Bourdeaux  should  be  placed  in  the 
midst  of  barrenness.       I   know  of   no  city  whose 
vicinity  combines,  in  so  narrow  limits    the  utmost 
fertility  and  beauty,  and  the  most  cheerless  bar- 
reuiiei.     The  banks  of  the  Garonne,  above  Bour- 
deaux,  are  as  beautiful,  and  more  striking,  than 
the  banks  of  the  Loire  ;  and  the  height-s  that  he 
to    the    north-east    of    Bourdeaux    ainj  also   beau- 
tifully broken  into  hill  and  dale,  and  charmingly 
divei-sihed  by  the  variety   of  their   productions; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  LandA^  present  a  vast 
and  cheerless  desert  ;  andtheDu/u-sof  theGironde 
a  wide  district  of  sand-hills  and  lagunes,  the  most 
dismal  of  all  kinds  of  scenery.    The  districts  around 
Bourdeaux  may  be  thus  summed  up  :— numerous 
vinevards,   less  or  more   ])recious— stony    hills— 
stripes  of  the  utmost  fertility  lying  along  the  nvers 
—dangerous  and  unhealthy  marehes— seas  of  naked 
sand— ti-acts  of  stunted  pine,  and  arid  deserts,  over- 
flowed in  winter,  and  burnt  u,.  in  summer,  strewn 
with   heath,  and  to  which   the  horizon  is  the  only 
boundary  ;— these  are  the  Landes.     ^      .         ^         . 
The  condition  of  the  peasantry  ..f  the  department 
is,  in  general,  only  midiocre.     The  labourer  m  the 
wine-districts,  in  j.articular,  may  be  called   p.>or. 
The  vinevards  of  Bourdeaux  are  the  property  ot 
hirge  prJi.rietors  ;   and  a  country  wholly  a  wme- 
countiw,  otfers  fewer  resources  t<.  tho  labourer  than 
where  the   crops  are  varie.l,  aiul  husbandry  more 
general.     The  price  of  labour  is  not    however,  low 
in  this  department.     Two  francs  and  a  half  per  day 
are  suthcient  to  procure  the  comforts  of  hie  m  tiiat 
countrv  ;  but  the  character  of  the  peasantry  is  not 
marked  bv  industry.     The  nature  of  the  climate 
perhaps,  engenders  i.lleness ;  and  the  cheapness  ot 
brandv,  from  the  refuse  of  the  whie,  is  an  incite- 
ment lo  intemperance.     The  character  of  the  m  la- 
bitants  of  Bourdeaux  and  its  neighb,.urhood  has 
always  been  remarkable   for  its  greater  placidity, 
thairthat  which  distinguishes  the  character  oi  the 
French  nation  in  most  other  parts.     Duriiig  the 
time  of  the  Revolution,  Bourdeaux  was  not  distin- 
guished tor  such  acts  of  atrocity  and  outrage  as 
disgraced  the   .)ther  great  cities  of  the  empire— 
a  fact  that  mav  be  partly  accounted  for  m  a  city 
whose   inhabitAnts  chieHy  live  by  the  produce  ot 
the  land  and  its  export  ;  for,  among  a  p..pulation  ot 
this  kind,  there   is  always  a  better  ieehiig,  and  a 
more  intimate  union,  among  the  p(»or  and  the  rich, 
than  prevails  in   those  cities  which   live  by  their 
manufactures.  •  ,    ,  •.     . 

With  respect  to  the  condition  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  LamUs  of  B.mrdeaux,  many  and  various 
opinions  are  to  be  found  ;  f.)r  my  own  part,  although 
I  have  passed  thn.ugh  the  LaiuUs,  I  have  had  but 
scantv  opixu-tunitv  of  examining  the  condition  ot 
the  p'eople,  an.l  must  therefore  rely  upon  the  au- 
thonties  which  are  the  most  worthy  of  credit.  Ihe 
author  of  the  FAu.ies  admlnistnUln's  ^iir  hs  Landes, 
speaking  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  district,  says— 
"  Atfaiblis  par  un  regime  malsain,  ils  arrivent  a  1  age 
ou  conmienee  la  facultd  de  retlechir,  sans  1  instruc- 
tion qui  la  prepare  ;  sans  la  force  physuiue  qui  sell 


CHAP.  XXXVIII.] 


WINES  OF  BOURDEAUX. 


113 


a  son  ddveloppement.  .  .  .  Des  vetements  grossiers, 
toujoui*8  mal  assortis  a  la  temperature  du  climat, 
les  accableiit  pendant  I'e'te  sans  les  preserver  du 
fi'oid  pendant  Thiver.  .  .  .  Conduits  par  doe  usages, 
prevenus  centre  les  innovations,  guide's  par  un  in- 
tdret  sans  calcul,  peu  accessibles  aux  affections  de 
la  nature,  ils  semblent  reserver  leur  sensibilitd 
pour  les  animaux  qui  ferment  leur  unique  richesse. 

Uno  nature  severe,  et  dont  I'aspect  ne  varie 

jamais,  un  retour  constant  des  memos  occupations, 
un  exces  de  niisere  tel  qu'il  e'mousse  jusqu'au  sen- 
timent du  malaise,  paralysent  leur  intelligence,  et 
les  rendent  incapables  de  ces  pense'es  dnergetiques 
(jui  donnent  a  riiomme  la  force  ne'cessaire  pour  se 
roidir  centre  le  malheur  et  dchapper  aux  conditions 
facheuses  de  son  existence."  There  is  doubtless 
much  truth  in  this  picture.  At  the  same  time, 
although,  in  comparison  with  the  inhabitants  of 
more  favoured  districts,  the  sum  of  enjoyment 
which  falls  to  the  sliare  of  the  shepherd  of  the 
Landes  may  be  few,  yet  the  accustomed  usages  of 
his  class  probably  content  him.  He  is  miserable, 
no  doubt,  in  one  sense  ;  but  he  is  not  himself  aware 
of  his  ow  n  misery.  He  has  mure  than  enough  to 
satisfy  the  wants  of  nature  ;  for  the  inhabitant  of 
the  Landes  is  not  poor.  He  is  not  accustomed  to 
consume  any  foreign  produce  ;  and,  by  the  breeding 
(jf  cattle,  he  even  amasses  some  fortune.  I  now 
regret,  that  I  did  not  devote  some  time  to  an  ex- 
cursion through  the  Landes^  and  to  some  inquiry 
into  the  condition  of  the  inhabitants  ;  but  I  have 
|)erhaps  a  sufficient  excuse  in  the  heats  of  summer, 
under  which  the  Landes  were  then  burnt  up. 

The  middle  and  highest  classes  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Bourdeaux  are  occupied  entirely  by  commerce  ; 
but  society  is,  like  that  in  every  other  town  of  such 
extent  as  Bourdeaux,  divided  into  coteries.  The 
higher  class  of  merchants  consider  themselves  as 
far  above  the  second  class,  as  the  exclusitcs  of  a 
metroi»olis  feel  themselves  sui>erior  to  the  highest 
class  of  merchants.  There  is  less  society  in  Bour- 
deaux than  might  be  expected  in  so  large  a  town. 
The  ifnides  keep  distinct,  excepting  at  the  time  of 
the  carnival,  when  reserve  is  in  some  degree 
thrown  off.  In  Bourdeaux,  as  in  Paris,  dinner- 
j>arties  are  rare,  excei>tiiig  ainijiig  the  few  English 
'  merchants.  Everv  coterie  has  its  soirees,  and  the 
gentlemen  have  their  cafes  and  their  clubs. 

1  went,  as  is  expected  of  every  stranger  who 
visits  B(»urdeaux,to  see  the  (%it<au  de  Montesquiia, 
It  is  situated  about  four  leagues  from  Bourdeaux, 
in  a  tine  fertile  country.  It  is  a  huge  and  very 
inelegant  building,  surrounded  by  a  fosse  ;  and  a 
long  avenue  of  oaks  leads  to  the  gate.  In  the 
chaud)er  which  was  used  as  a  study  by  this  great 
man,  all  the  furniture  has  been  preserved  witli  re- 
liirious  care.  An  u!iadt)riied  bed,  a  few  easy  chairs 
of  a  (lothic  lurin,  and  some  family  portraits,  are 
only  seen.  The  room  is  wainscoted;  and  it apjjeai"s, 
froln  the  rubbed  appearance  of  the  left  side  of  the 
hre-place,  as  if  Montesquieu  had  been  accustomed 
to  meditate  upon  his  work  with  his  foot  resting 
against  the  wall.  This  is  a  little  matter  ;  but  there 
is  some  interest  even  in  trifles  like  these.  The 
library  is  interesting.  Upon  the  back  of  many  of 
his  bo«jks  Montes(iuieu  has  written  their  names. 
From  the  window  of  the  study  there  is  a  charming 
view  over  the  surrounding  country.  He  had  found 
pleasure  in  this  retreat ;  for  he  says,"  Je  puis  dire 
([ue  la  Brede  (the  name  of  the  chateau)  est  un  des 


lieux  aussi  agrdables  qu'il  y  ait  en  France  :  au 
chateau  pres,  la  nature  s'y  trouve  en  robe  de 
chambre,  et  i)Our  ainsi  dire  au  lever  du  lit."  I 
spent  a  pleasant  day  at  the  Cliateau  de  Montesquieu  ; 
for  the  weather  was  charming,  the  l>arty  was 
agreeable,  and  I  had  the  prospect  before  me  of  an 
excellent  dumer,  at  the  house  of  Monsieur  Guestier, 
one  of  the  principal  wine-exporters.  A  prospect 
like  this  adds  a  wonderiul  zest  to  a  pleasure-ex- 
cursion. 

Besides  the  Chateau  de  la  Bride,  there  are  seve- 
ral other  chateaux  worthy  of  a  visit.  I  may  men- 
tion particularly,  the  tliateau  de  Thouars,  once  the 
residence  of  Charles  IX.  ;  the  Chateau  de  VUlan- 
drauty  where  Clement  V.  was  born,  and  which,  not 
on  account  of  its  being  the  birth-place  of  a  pope, 
but  because  of  its  situation,  and  the  solitude  and 
silence  of  its  ruins,  is  worth  visiting.  There  is  also 
the  fine  Oiatcau  d'Epernon  ;  the  Chateau  de  Lajitte  ; 
and  the  Cfuiteau-Manjauj:,  dear,  by  its  very  name, 
to  the  lover  of  claret.  This  reminds  me,  that  1 
have  an  important  duty  to  fulfil  ;  for,  however  in- 
teresting Bourdeaux  maybe  as  a  splendid  city, and 
on  account  of  the  many  fine  monuments  w  Inch  it 
contains,  it  is  doubly  interesting  from  its  connexion 
with  the  claret-trade  ;  and  I  hasten,  therefore,  to 
present  the  reader  vsith  a  somewhat  detailed  ac- 
count of  the  wines  of  Bourdeaux. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

THE    WINES    OF    BOURDEAUX. 

C]assification  of  the  Wines  of  Bourdeaux— Produce— Qualities 
of  Grapes—First  Growths— Medoc  and  its  Wines — Cha- 
teau-Margaux,  Latitte,  Latour,  Haut-Brion— Produce  and 
Value  of  these  Vineyards— Classification  of  the  four  first 
Growths  of  Claret— St.  Emiiion— Export  of  these  Wines- 
Errors  respecting  the  Manufacture  of  Claret— Inferior 
Wines  exported  as  Clarets— Other  Wines  of  France. 

The  general  classification  of  the  red  wines  of  Bour- 
deaux, although  perhaps  upon  the  whole  correct,  is 
nevertheless  founded  only  on  opinion,  which  follows 
change  of  taste  and  change  of  fashion.  The  classifi- 
cation can  never  be  said  to  be  perfectly,  or  unal- 
terably established  ;  for,  within  the  last  hundred 
years,  taste  and  opinion  in  the  quality  of  the  wines 
of  Bourdeaux,  have  suffered  material  changes. 
Within  this  period,  the  wines  of  Medoc,  now  greatly 
the  most  esteemed,  held  but  a  secondary  place  in 
public  ojjinion  ;  so  much  so,  that  those  proprieUtrs 
who  owned  vineyards  both  in  Medoc  and  Bourg, 
never  sold  the  produce  of  the  latter  of  these — the 
most  esteemed — without  imposmg  upon  the  pur- 
chaser the  condition  of  taking  off  his  hand  a  part 
of  the  produce  of  the  former  vineyard,  then  consi- 
dered far  inferior. 

The  quality  of  wines  depends  upon  many  causes. 
Some  of  these  are  natural  causes  ;  such  as,  the 
soil,  the  exposure  of  the  vineyard,  the  nature  and 
age  of  the  vine.  Others  are  accidental  ;  such  as, 
atmospheric  influence,  which  too  often  frustrates 
the  hopes  of  the  cultivator  ;  a  culture  less  or  more 
careful  ;  the  difference  in  the  process  of  fermenta- 
tion ;  and  the  greater  or  smaller  degree  of  care  in 
afterwards  disposing  of  the  liquor.  These  latter 
causes  influencing  the  quality  of  wine,  may  of 
course  lead  to  a  change  of  opinion  by  their  con- 
tinued opei-ation  ;  but  in  classifying  the  wines,  it  is 


>  I 


114 


W  1-\E^  UF  JiULKDLALX. 


[chap.  XXXVIII. 


supi>ose(l  that  the  vine  has  not  been  injured  by  any 
untoward  ut !  I  lospheric  change  ;  that  the  culture  has 
been  conducted  with  the  utmost  care  ;  and  thiit,  in 
short,  nothiii;jj  has  hten  neglected  that  n»ay  afford 
the  higlu'st  probability  of  a  successful  produce. 
The  classification  is  perhaps,  therefore,  as  perfect 
as  it  was  possible  to  nuike  it. 

The  whole  ]irndnc('  of  the  department  is  esti- 
mated at  250,000  tons.  Fn>ni  this  (quantity,  a  tifth 
part  may  be  deducted  for  drawing,  evaporation,  &c. 
The  expense  of  culture  is  estimated  over  liead  at 
from  45,000,000  to  4(1,000,000  of  francs  (1,800,0(M)/. 
sterling),  which,  i-stimuting  the  <[uantity  of  land 
under  vineyard,  is  110 francs  per  448 scpiare yards  ; 
and  this  portion  of  land  is  calculated  to  produce  two 
liogsheads  and  forty-six  luuidied  partsof  a  hogsliead. 
A  few  words  rt'sjiecting  the  difierent  grapes  fi'om 
which  the  liourdeaux  wines  are  produced,  camiot 
be  out  of  place. 

These  are  Ic  Cnnnenet,  le  Cartnentre^  le  MaUM>ck^ 
h-  !*it'it  et  !,■  (rros  Verdoty  le  Merlot,  nud I e  Massoutet. 
lilt  >t    an    till'  finest  species;  and  it  is  from  these 
that  the  wints  of  Medoc  are  |)roduced. 

The  Cantu'iitt  has  a  smooth,  liairless  leaf,  httle 
indented,  the  fruit  Tiiiddle-sized,  nearly  round,  and 
of  a  bright  black. 

The  Cannetnre  grows  in  long  clusters,  and  the 
grape  is  large,  and  also  l)right-coloured. 

The  Ma/hick  also  gi-ows  in  long  ehisters,  the  fniit 
oval,  and  very  black,  the  stalk  reddish,  and  the 
leaf  smooth. 

The  Petit  et  Gros  Verdot  grow  in  short  clusters  ; 
are  of  a  vermilion  colour  ;  have  a  dusky-coloured 
leaf,  and  very  many  tendrils.  These  gi-apesare  pre- 
cisely the  same  ;  only  the  one  is  larger  than  the  other. 
The  Merlot  is  chieHy  remarkable  for  its  velvety 
black  skin,  and  the  thickness  of  its  stalk.  The  name 
of  this  grape  is  taken  from  tiie  word  Mi  rh-  (black- 
bird), because  this  bird  is  particularly  fond  of  that 
grai)e. 

Tln'se  are  the  best  grapes  ;  but  there  arc  many 
others  from  which  an  interior  wine  is  procured.  I 
shall  merely  name  them.  De  Maucin,  le  Teinturier, 
la  Peloville,  le  i'etit  Chalosse  Noir,  la  I'ersillade. 
It  must  be  understood,  that  the  names  of  these 
grapes  are  not  the  same  in  all  the  ditierent  districts 
where  they  are  cultivated. 

The  nature  of  the  soil,  1  need  scarcely  say,  in- 
fluences the  (|uality  of  the  same  grape.  The  Verdot, 
so  j)roductive  in  the  plains,  does  not  repay  the 
labour  of  cultivation  uiion  the  heights.  It  is  worthy 
uf  remark,  too,  that  the  grajjc  w  hich  tastes  the  most 
agreeably  does  not  produce  the  best  wine.  The 
grai)e8  last  mentioned  are  all  more  agreeable  to  the 
])alate  than  those  w  Inch  produce  the  w  ines  of  Medoc. 
In  no  other  j)art  of  France,  has  the  cultivation  of 
the  vine  been  carried  to  so  great  perfection  as  in  the 
wines  of  liourdeaux.  Within  the  last  five  years, 
many  improvements  have  been  made  ;  and  the 
academy  of  Hourdeaux  has  oti'ercd  prizes  for  cer- 
tain trials,  which  have  in  some  instances  proved 
successful. 

The  vines  whicli  produce  the  first  growths  are 
situated  on  the  bordei-s  of  the  Ldndii^ ;  the  (»ther 
vines  are  cultivated  on  the  heights  called  F Entre- 
dtux  Mens,  and  upon  the  plains  w Inch  border  the 
(lamnneand  the  Oordogne.  The  first  growths  of 
Medoc,  wliich  technical  expression  means  the  best 
(jualities  of  claret,  are  <'liatc<iu-Mar</(HiJ,  L'iJJtfe,iu\d 
Latour.     After  these,  come  the  second,  third,  and 


fourth  growths  ;  and,  lastly,  the  rin  de  Paysans,  so 
called,  because  the  vineyards  are  the  property,  not 

of   the   great    proprietoi-s,    but  of  the     peasantry. 
Many  of  these  latter  vines  might  probably  ecpial  the 
third  and  fourth  growths  of  Medoc,  if  more  pains 
were  bestowed  upon  their  cultivation  and  prepara- 
tion.    These  wines  are  consumed  in  the  country, 
and  are  not  sought  after  for  exj>ortation.    The  good 
faith  of  the  peasant,  in  maintaining  the  purity  of 
his  wine,  it  is  siiid,  is  not  to  be  depended  upon  ;  but 
the  exporter  ought  to  possess  so  ]>crfect  a  knowledge 
of  the  ((uality  of  the  ditterent  vineyards,  as  to  make 
it  impossible  that  any  deception  should  be  j)rac- 
tised  upon  him.     But  to  return  to  the  first  growths 
of  Medoc,  which  in  England  are  denominated  clarets. 
Medoc  is  that  portion  of  the  department  which 
lies  between  the  Gironde  and  the   (Julf  of  Gascony. 
It  is  in  factatongueof  land  sun*ounded  by  water.  Me- 
doc is  about  forty-five  miles  long,  by  ten  miles  broad, 
and  is  generally  a  plain,  excepting  near  the   banks 
of  the  rivers,  where   some   heights  lie,  upon  which 
the  best  wine  is  grown.     All  tliat  part  of  the  land 
which  produces  the  first  growths,  is  a  light   soil, 
pretty  thickly  strewn  with  stones  about  an  inch  or 
two  in    diameter.     About  two  feet   below  the  sur- 
face, a  reddish  earth  is  found,  dry,  compact,  and 
mixed  with  stones.     The  whole  of  the  territory  of 
Medoc  is  as  varied  in  its  ([uality  as  in  its  produce. 
The  fields  of  one  ]ii'oprietor   pi-oduce   the   cliuii-est 
wine,  while  those   adjoining  are  scarcely  worth  the 
labour  of  cultivation  ;  and  even  in  the  same  fields 
there  are  bad  and  good  spots,  and  veins  of  unpro- 
ductive land  run  throuudi  the  most  esteemed   vine- 
yards.     iSo  reason  can  be  given  for  the  difierence 
in  the  quality  of  the  vine  produced  in  difi'erent  spots. 
There  maybe  no  apparent  diflerence  in  the  soil, none 
in  the  exposuiv,  none  in  the  vine,  none  in  the  treat- 
ment.  Oni;  vine  may  come  u})  as  luxuriantly, iir  more 
luxuriantly,  than  another  beside  it, and  btarsimilar 
clustei-8  ;   but  one  may,  notwithstanding,  be  con- 
verted   into    first    growths,  while    the    other   will 
scarcely  rise  above  the  ratd;  of  r'ln  dn  Paiis. 

The  culture  of  the  vines  of  Medoc  dithers  from 
that  of  the  vines  in  other  parts  of  the  department. 
The  shrub  is  low,  and  is  su]>ported  upon  a  stake, 
which  is  there  called  r< //•</.<>>•<>».  Pine-laths,  from 
eight  to  ten  feet  in  length, are  fixed  laterally, and  form 
a  continued  line  of  espeliards,  about  a  foot  and  a  half 
high.  Generally  spiuking,  the  vines  of  Medoc  are 
estimated  to  produce  half  a  ton]»er  448  square  yards. 

I  have  said,  that  the  three  first  growths  of  the 
wines  of  Medoc,  are  ('/niti((u-]\Iiny<(ii.r,  Lojitfe,  and 
Ldtour.  These  names  are  familiar  to  every  claret- 
drinker.  All  these  wines  grow  on  gentle  acclivities, 
on  the  left  Itank  of  the  (Jaronne  ;  some  nearer  and 
sonu>  farther  from  the  si-a.  JIaut  Prion,  also,  al- 
though not  a  wine  of  Medoc,  is  considered  to  raid; 
w  ith  the  first  growths  of  claret. 

The  farm  of  Chateau-Margaux  contiiins,  alto- 
gether, about  800  acres  ;  of  which  quantity  about 
Ii50  are  occupied  by  the  vineyards.  Lafitte,  which 
is  twenty-five  miles  nearer  the  sea,  contains  230 
acres.  The  vineyards  of  Chateau-Margaux  are 
not  contiimous,  but  are  intennixed  with  other  vine- 
yards, which  are  less  valuable  by  more  than  one- 
third.  The  farm  of  Latour  is  less  extensive,  and 
[)roduces  less  than  the  other  two  fii-st  growths.  The 
wine  called  JJ(nU  Jirioit  is  also  a  fii-st  growth,  and 
ranks,  at  least  has  hitherto  ranked,  with  the  first  j 
growths  of  Medoc  ;  but  1  was  infonned  that  it  has 


CHAP.  XXX  \  in. 


WINES  OF  BOURDEAUX. 


115 


lately  declined   in   public  estimation,    and  conse- 
quently in  demand. 

The  produce  of  the  vineyards  of  Chateau-Mar- 
gaux amounts  to  about  150  tons — four  hogsheads 
to  the  ton. 

The  produce  of  the  Lafitte  vineyard  amounts  to 
about  120  tons.  This  vineyard  is  rather  more  pro- 
ductive than  the  Chateau-Margaux,  which  is  con- 
siderably larger. 

The  produce  of  the  Latour  vineyard  may  be 
taken  at  about  120  tons  also. 

Of  iiaut  Brion,  the  vineyards  produce  from  sixty 
to  eighty  tons. 

The  price  of  these  first  growths  may  be  stated  to 
be,  upon  an  average  of  ten  years,  from  32/.  to  63/.  ; 
and  there  is  a  difference  of  41.  between  every  two 
growths  ;  i.  e.  a  first  growth  is  41.  higher  in  price 
than  a  second  growth,  and  a  second  growth  4/. 
higher  than  a  thu*d  growth,  &c.  This  rule  is  in- 
variable, w  hatever  the  prices  may  be  ;  because  the 
classification  into  fii"st,  second,  third,  and  fourth 
growths,  continues  always  the  same. 

From  this  statement,  which  may  be  considered 
perfectly  authentic,  since  it  was  received  by  me 
from    the  house   of   (Jti^stu'r,  Parton,  and  Co.,  at 
Bourdeaux,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  whole  produce 
of  the  first  growths  of  Claret^  Chateau-Margaux, 
Lafitte,  Latour,  and  llaut  Prion,  is  no  more  than 
1800  hogsheads  ;  from  which  1  leave  the  reader  to 
infer,  how  much  of  the  claret  drunk  in  England  is 
first  growth.     But  although  the  first  growths  are 
limited  in  quantity,  there   is  no  want  of  inferior 
growths  ;  for  the  w  hole  amount  of  the  produce  of 
Medoc,  of  all  growths,  is  estimated  at  no  less  than 
32,000  tons.     Now  that  the  policy  of  the  govern- 
ment has  equalized  the  duties  upon  wines,  it  is  rea- 
sonable to  imagine,  that  the  importation  of  clarets 
will  be  greatly  increased  ;  and  perhaps  it  is  not  too 
uncharitable  to  suppose,  that  second  growths  will 
be  passed  as  first  growths,  third  growths  as  second 
growths,  fourth   giowths  as  third  growths,  and  so 
on.     I  thhik,  therefore,  1  may  not  be  communi- 
cating a  })iece  of  information  altogether  without  its 
utility,  if  I  present  here  the  recognised  classifica- 
tion of  clarets  of  the  first  four  growths,  together 
with  their  estimated  produce. 

FIRST  GROWTHS. 

Chateau  Margaux       .         .     from  140  to  160  tons. 

Chateau  Lafitte     .         .     .  120 

Chateau  Latour  .         .  120 

Haut  Brion  ....  60  —  80 

These  are  the  four  first  qualities,  and  are  known 
under  these  names  ;  but  it  must  be  recollected,  that 
the  second,  third,  and  fourth  growths,  are  also  pro- 
duced from  the  same  estate  as  that  which  pro- 
duces the  Oiateau- Margaux  and  the  Lafitte ;  so  that 
a  w  ine  being  the  produce  of  Margaux,  is  no  proof 
that  it  is  wine  of  a  first  quality. 

SECOND  GROWTHS. 

Brane  Mouton  .  .      from  120to  140tons. 

N. — This  wine  is  produced  on  the 
same  estate  as  the  Lafitte. 
Rauzan        ....      from  7&  to    95 
N. — This  wine  is  produced  at  Mar- 
gaux. 
Lascombes,  also  from  Margaux,  from  25  to    35 
Durefont,  ditto  .  .  18 —    24 

Gorse  .         .         .         .  40  —    50 

Leoville  .         .  .  145—180 


120  to  150  tons. 


60  to 

70 

35  - 

45 

100  — 

120 

60 

70 

20 

25 

10 

15 

10 

15 

40  to 

60 

50  — 

70 

80 

90 

60 

90 

150  — 

200 

70- 

80 

25  — 

35 

10  — 

15 

80 

100 

80  — 

90 

20  — 

25 

18  — 

20 

40  — 

50 

N. — This  is  the  best  of  the  class  of 
St.  Julien,  a  wine  well  known  in 
England,  and  of  which  there  are 
second,  third,  and  fourth  growths. 

Gruau,  also  a  St.  Julien 

THIRD  GROWTHS. 

Pickon — Longueville    .         .  from  lOU   tu  120 
N. — This  wine  is  produced  on  the 
same  estate  as  the  Latour. 

Cos  Destoumel    . 
Bergeron  (a  St.  Julien) 
Branes  Arbouet  (Ditto) 
Kir  wan        .... 
Chateau  de  Candale     . 
Malescet  (of  Margaux) 
De  Loyae  (Ditto) 

FOURTH  GROWTHS. 

Giscours     ....    from 

St.  Pierre  (St.  Julien) 

Duluc  (Ditto) 

Mandavit  (from  tlie  Lafitte  estate) 

Canet  (Ditto) 

Dinac  (Ditto)  . 

Lacalonie  (of  Margaux) 

Ferriere  (Ditto) 

Tronquoy     .... 

Ducasse       .... 

Poujet  .... 

Determe       .... 

Boyd  ..... 

it  appears,  therefore,  that  the  amount  of  the-fii-st 
growth  is  450  tons  ;  of  the  second  growth  602  tons  ; 
of  the  third  growth  326  tons  ;  and  of  the  fourth 
growth  823  tons,  taking  the  mean  produce.  It  will 
also  be  seen,  that  the  wines  of  St.  Julien  form  a 
considerable  part  of  this  produce,  and  are  distri- 
l)uted  over  all  the  three  latter  growths.  The  name 
of  St.  Julien,  therefore,  is  an  im]ierfect  index  by 
which  to  judge  of  the  quality  of  the  wine. 

The  wine  of  St.  Emilion!  a  well-known  wine  in 
England,  and  generally  considered  a  claret,  is  not  a 
wine  of  Medoc,  and  ranks  in  quality  with  the  fourth 
growths  above  enumerated.  The  wines  called  St. 
Emilion  are  of  no  fewer  than  twelve  kinds  ;  and  it  is 
computed,  that  there  is  exported  from  Bourdeaux  no 
less  than  2,500  tons  under  the  denomination  of  St. 
Emilion.  It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  the  greater 
proportion  of  the  clarets  drank  in  England  are  the 
difierent  wines  of  St.  Emilion.  St.  Emilion  may 
be  easily  distinguished  from  the  wines  of  Medoc, 
by  the  absence  of  the  bouquet,  and  also  by  its  more 
heady  taste. 

In  good  seasons,  nine-tenth  parts  of  all  the  first 
growths  are  exported  to  England  ;  the  rest  to  Hol- 
land, and  the  northern  ports.  In  different  seasons, 
these  are  exported  to  Holland  chiefiy  ;  and,  in  bad 
seasons,  they  are  consumed  in  France.  The  first 
growths  are  not  exported  to  England  in  any  other 
than  in  good  years,  because  it  is  more  important  to 
maintain  the  character  of  these  wines  in  England, 
than,  by  throwing  bad  wine  into  the  market  as  first 
growths,  to  realise  a  passing  advantage.  This  dis- 
tribution of  the  first  growths  according  to  the  sea- 
son is  so  well  understood,  that  the  proprietor  of  a 
second  growth  (la  Rose)  hoists,  upon  a  tower  that 
overlooks  his  estate,  an  English  flag  in  gtx)d  years, 
a  Dutch  flag  in  middling  yeai'S,  and  a  French  flag 
in  bad  years.  The  rUolte  is  always  made  between 
the  1st  and  30th  of  September ;  and  the  wine  is 
usually  kept  three  or  four  years  before  it  is  sent  to 

I     *rf 


m 


IIG 


Vv"l.NE>  Oi'    \U)\   lliill.W   \. 


[chap.    XXXVIII. 


Eii^'huiil.  rnlii  thin  time  lias  rla|>-til,  tlif  iir>t 
growth^  "1  tiie  wines  of  Medoc  are  not  considered 
fit  for  exportation.* 

Some  of  till-  wines  of  liourdeanx  are  improved 
by  a  voya;:^'-'  ;  Lait  not  the  first  ^rowtlis  of  claret. 
These,  when  exj)orted  to  America  or  India,  are 
j)repared  for  the  voyage,  by  th.  allirion  of  the  wines 
of.Queyries  and  Mont-Frenand.  iiut  the  best  cla- 
rets are  drunk  in  the  greatest  perfection  in  coun- 
tries the  least  distant  from  their  native  soil.  Other 
wines  of  Bourdeaux — of  which  1  shall  immediately 
say  a  few  words — intended  solely  for  export  to  dis- 
tant countries,  are  improved  by  the  voyage,  and 
actjuire  a  greater  delicacy  and  lightness ;  but  these 
never  equal  tht>  wines  of  Medoc. 

1 1  is  jin  error  to  suppose,  that  the  fii-st  growths 
ul  claret,  imported  for  the  English  market,  are 
compound  wines.  Generally  speaking,  the  best 
clarets  are  pure  wines.  It  is  only  inferior  wines 
that  are  mixed,  in  order  to  give  them  strength  and 
colour.  But  I  have  said  already,  that,  unless  in 
the  best  seasons,  first  growths  are  not  imported  into 
England  as  fii-st  growths ;  and  these  are  never 
mixed  with  any  other  wine.  With  respect  to  the 
belief  that  clarets  are  brandied,  this  is  not  generally 
the  case  ;  and  wlu  ii  brandy  is  added  to  the  wines 
of  Medoc,  it  is  added  in  very  small  ([uantities. 
Some  proprietors  put  one  hogshead  of  brandy  to 
twenty  tons  of  wine — an  eightieth  part.  Whether 
brandy  be  or  be  not  added  to  clarets,  depends  en- 

•  Choice  claret  is  one  of  the  wine-drinker's  chief  luxuries  ; 
and,  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  its  cost,  we  suhjoin  the 
following  accurate  information  regarding  the  expenses  at- 
tending the  importation  of  genuine  first-growth  wine  into 
this  country,  and  the  price  at  which  the  wine-merchant  can, 
with  a  fair  profit,  afford  to  sell  it  to  his  customers.  This  in- 
formation is  from  a  valuable  little  treatise  on  the  Wines  of 
Bourdeaux,  by  M.  Paguirre,  a  retired  wine-broker  resident 
in  that  city  : — 

Average  price  charged,  by  the  first  houses  at 
Bourdeaux,  per  hogshead,  for  first  growth 
wine  of  a  prime  vintage       ....         JE50    0    0 

Insurance  and  freight 18    6 

Landing  charges 0    2    6 

Duty  at  7s.  3d.  per  gallon        .        .         .        .  16  13    6 

Bottles,  corks,  wax,  &c 4  19    0 


Interest,  expense  of  premises,  &c.  to  time  of 
sale,  8i  per  cent.  .... 


£73    3    C 

6     4    4 

£79  7  10 
This  sum  (equal  to  about  £3  10s.  6d.  per  doz.)  Is,  then,  what 
the  wine  actually  costs  the  importer  before  he  can  bring  it  to 
market ;  but  as  he  nmst  have  a  profit  on  his  business,  he 
should  get  something  more  than  this,  even  when  the  wine 
is  sold  inuntdiately;  and  if  he  keejjs  it,  to  acquire  age,  he 
must,  besides,  be  paid  for  his  risk,  and  the  locking  up  of  his 
capital,  as  well  as  all  the  other  charges  alTectmg  his  busi- 
ness. 

If  what  is  here  slated  be  just — and  we  thnik  it  cannot 
be  proved  to  be  otherwise — it  must  be  a  mere  delusion  in 
any  person  in  this  country  to  suppose  he  can  get  first-growth 
wine  of  a  fine  vintage  bvlow  the  rate  current  amoii^r  respect 
able  merchants.  It  is  true,  that,  at  this  moment,  we  may 
purchase  at  Bourdeaux,  from  some  shipping  houses,  war- 
ranted Chaleau-Margnux,  vintage  1825,  at  lUOO  francs  per 
hogsliead  :  but  as  it  is  perfectly  wel!  known,  that  the  whole 
produce  of  that  estate  was  sold  immediately  after  the  vintage 
at  very  nearly  that  price,  and  tliit,  after  nearly  three  years' 
keeping.  lOOO  francs  is  a  fair  i)rice  for  good  third-growth 
wme,  we  may  judge  what  degree  of  confidence  cau  be  had  in 
such  warranters  and  their  warrantry. 


tir  1\  111  i:  tie  order  received  by  the  exporter; 
but  it  may  be  taken  as  an  invariable  rule,  that,  if 
an  order  from  England  be  sent  to  any  of  the  ex- 
porters ot  the  first  growths,  merely  requesting  first, 
second,  third,  or  fourth  growths,  without  any  other 
direction,  the  wine  is,  in  that  case,  sent  in  its  pure 
stat<-,  without  the  addition  of  any  brandy.  I  liave 
nothini:  more  to  add  of  the  first  growths  of  the 
win.  s  ol  Medoc.  But  to  these  I  have  to  add  the 
Unut  Brian,  which  is  generally  understood  to  rank 
with  the  second  and  third  growth  of  the  wines  of 
Medoc.  This  is  a  red  Vin  de  Grares  ;  it  has  less 
Umquet  than  the  wines  of  Medoc  ;  it  has  somewhat 
more  colour,  and  more  body  ;  and,  after  being  kept 
six  or  eight  years  in  wood,  is  scarcely  to  be  distin- 
guished from  the  other  fii-st  growths.  But  Haut 
Brion  has  somewhat  declined  in  public  opinion. 
One  or  other  of  the  accidental  causes  which  iufiu- 
ence  the  quality  of  wines,  has  probably  sent  into 
the  market,  as  a*  first  or  second  growth,  a  wine  that 
ought,  for  the  reputation  of  the  vineyard,  to  have 
been  consumed  at  home.  Complaints  have  been 
made  by  consumers,  to  the  home  merchants  ;  less 
has  in  conseijuence  been  ordered  ;  and  wheu  the 
demand  begins  in  this  way  to  fall  off,  the  vineyards 
are  apt  to  be  neglected.  The  demand  being  less, 
the  price  is  not  high  enough  to  repay  the  cares  of 
cultivation  ;  and  the  wine  continues  to  decline  hi 
estimation,  until  it  falls  altogether  into  a  secondary 
rank.  There  are  various  qualities  of  Haut  Brion. 
The  first  growth  is  but  a  very  small  part  of  tlie 
produce  of  the  vineyard. 

St.  Emilion,  I  have  already  mentioned,  as  a  wine 
largely  imported  into  England,  under  the  generic 
name  of  claret ;  but  for  which  the  consumer  ought 
to  pay  a  nmch  lower  price  than  for  the  first 
or  second  growths  of  the  wines  of  Medoc.  But 
there  is  also  another  wine  which  finds  its  way, 
and  is  now  likely  to  find  its  way  still  more  largely 
into  the  English  market,  as  a  claret.  This  is  the 
wine  of  Bourg,  called  Bounjais.  The  prt)duce  of 
the  vineyards  of  Bourg  is  large,  amounting  to  no 
less  than'  iJOO  tons  ;  and  the  produce  will  no  doubt 
go  far  towards  supplying  the  increasing  demand 
for  French  wines  in  England. 

But  the  wines  which  1  have  mentioned  forni  but 
a  very  small  part  of  the  wines  of  Bourdeaux.  The 
other  wuies  are,  the  Vins  de  Cotes,  and  the  Vins  de 
Palus.  The  foniier  of  these  are  cultivated  upon  the 
heights  which  lie  upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Ga- 
ronne, and  are  considered  leather  in  the  light  of  good 
vin  ordinaire,  than  as  rin»fns,  for  export.  A  great 
proportion  of  these  wines  is  exported  to  Holland 
and  the  Baltic  ;  but  some  hundreds  of  hogsheads 
are  also  entered  for  England.  The  wines  of  Palm 
are  grown  still  more  extensively.  The  vineyards 
which  produce  these,  lie  upon  the  fertile  low  lauds 
that  are  found  on  the  banks  of  the  Garonne  and  the 
Dordogne.  This  is  not  the  kuid  of  soil  best  suited 
to  the  vine,  which  finds  a  stony  and  rocky  soil  more 
congenial  than  rich  land.  The  wuies  of  Talus  are 
ex])orteil  in  large  quantities  to  distant  countries, 
and  requite  both  age  and  a  voyage.  The  pnxluce 
of  these  vineyards  is  very  great.  The  rims  de  Lutes, 
and  the  vins  de  Palus,  together,  reach  10,000  tons  ; 
about  one-third  ]>art  of  which  qiiantity  is  exported 
U)  foreign  countries.  The  i)rice  of  these  wines 
ninges  from  200  to  400  francs,  but  the  average 
may  be  stated  ai  2'}{)  francs. 

This  notice  upon  the  wines  of  Bourdeaux  has 


CHAP.  XXXVIII.] 


WINES  OF  BOURDEAUX. 


117 


I  — 


been  somewhat  extended  ;  but  at  a  time  when  the 
new  scale  of  duties  will  not  only  lead  to  a  demand, 
but  probably  even  to  a  taste,  for  the  wines  of  France, 
the  sketch  I  have  given  may  not  be  unacceptable. 
Most  persons  are  desirous  of  being  thought  to 
know  something  of  wines  ;  and  yet,  this  knowledge 
cannot  be  otherwise  than  very  limited.  To  be  a 
connoisseur  in  wines,  and  to  have  a  knowledge  of 
wines,  are  two  things  very  different.  The  former 
is  to  be  acquired  by  experience  alone ;  the  latter 
only  by  inquiry  ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  cannot  but 
think,  that  it  adds  something  to  the  zest  of  a  glass 
of  ChaJteau-Margaux,  to  know  a  little  of  its  history. 
Mthough  not,  perhaps,  perfectly  in  place  here,  yet 
t.  I  am  upon  the  subject  of  wines,  and  for  the 
reason  also  which  I  have  already  given  why  there 
may  be,  at  present,  more  interest  upon  the  subject 
than  usual,  I  will  add  a  very  slight  notice  respect- 
ing the  wines  of  France  in  general. 

Four  districts  in  France  partake  the  reputation 
of  producing  the  most  renowned  and  most  valuable 
wines— Burgundy,  the  Bordelais,  Dauphiny,  and 
Champagne  ;  and  all  these  four  classes  of  wmes 
differ  essentially  in  their  character.  The  wines  of 
Burgundy  are  the  most  esteemed  in  France  and  m 
Germunv ;  the  wines  of  Bourdeaux  are  most  es- 
teemed "in  England.  All  these  wines  are  divided 
into  classes  ;  and  the  following  is  the  classification 
of  Burgundy  : 

FIRST   CLASS   OP    BURGUNDY — ALL    FROM    THE    COTE 

d'or. 
La  RomancJo  Conti.  Le  Clos  du  Tart. 

Le  Chambertin.  Les  Bonnes-Marres. 

Le  Richebourg.  Le  Clos  la  Roche. 

Le  Clos  Vaugeot.  Les  V^roilles. 

La  Romance  de  St.  Vivant.  Le  Clos  Morjot. 
La  Tache.  Le  Clos  St.  Jean. 

Le  Clos  St.  George's.  La  Perriere. 

Le  Musigni. 
N.— Another  St.  George's.    The  St.  George  best  known,  is 
a  wine  of  Provence. 

Le  Clos  de  Pre'raeau. 

Most  of  these  wines  grow  in  very  small  quanti- 
ties. The  first  gi'owths,  indeed,  are  rarely  met 
with,  excepting  at  royal,  or  highly-illustnous  ta- 
bles. 

SECOND    CLA.SS   OF    BURGUNDIES. 

Corton.  Chambolle.  Pitoy^ 

Vosne.  Morey.  Perriere. 

Nuits.  Savigny.  P^^^V''-     .. 

Volnay.  Meursault  La  Chainette. 

Pomard.  (from  the  Cotd  d'Or.)    Mignenn. 

Beaume.         Olivotes.  Chenas. 

The  first  six  of  these  are  the  Burgundies  most 
commonly  met  with  ;  and  these  second  growths,  it 
is  said,  bear  exjiortation  better  than  the  fii-st 
growths.  Hitherto,  but  a  limited  quantity  of  Bur- 
gundy has  been  exported  into  England  ;  partly 
because  it  has  been  thought  to  bear  transport 
worse— and  i>artly  because  the  taste  of  the  French 
inclining  more  iii  favour  of  Burgundy  than  the 
wines  of  Bourdeaux,  there  is  a  larger  demand  for 
it  at  home.  There  can  be  little  doubt,  however, 
that  if  the  removal  of  the  duties  .shall  tempt  the 
proprietors  of  Burgundies  to  try  the  English  mar- 
ket, the  demand  for  claret  will  suffer  a  consider- 
able diminution. 

The  French  look  upon  it  almost  as  a  heresy,  to 
deny  to  Burgundy  the  pre-eminence  in  wines  ;  and 


accordinglv,  the  ancient  title  of  the  dukes  of  Bur- 
gundy waJ  Primes  des  Bans  Vins.  The  Romunee 
Conti,  which  stands  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  fii"st- 
growths,  has  scarcely,  if  ever,  found  its  way  into 
England.  The  vineyard  from  which  it  i.s  produced 
does  not  exceed  seven  EngUsh  acres  in  extent. 
The  Chs  Vaugeot  was  at  one  time  the  rival  of  the 
Rmnante  Conti,  and  as  much  as  twelve  francs  per 
bottle  has  been  obtained  for  it  by  the  grower  ;  but 
it  is  now  looked  upon  as  inferior  to  several  of  the 
other  first  grow  ths. 

The  only  first  growth  of  the  wine  of  Daui>hiny 
known  in  'England,  is  Hermitage — of  which  there 
are  four  kinds,  scarcely  dittering  in  quality— 3/ eo/, 
Grejlen,  Bessac,  Beaunie,  en  llaumuie.  The  quan- 
tity of  these  wines  is  extremely  small  ;  but,  as  I 
have  mentioned  in  another  part  of  this  volume, 
the  adjoining  vineyards  contribute  towards  the  de- 
mand. 

The  second  growths  of  the  wine  of  Dau|>hiny  are 
Tain  VEtoUe,  Drome..  St.  Peray,  an  excellent  u  hite 
wine,  is  also  a  wine  of  Dauphiny. 

Champagne  admits  the  simple  classification  of 
river  wines  and  mountain  wines  ;  Vins  de  la  Kiriere 
d£  Marne,  and  tins  de  hi  Montagne  de  Reittui.  The 
former  are  white,  the  latter  red.  Sillery  is  the  most 
in  favour  among  the  wuies  of  Champagne,  and  takes 
its  name  from  the  property  of  the  marquis  of  Sillery, 
where  the  vineyards  he.  Among  the  red  Chain- 
pagnes,  St.  Thierry  is  the  most  esteemed,  and  is  said 
to  unite  the  aroma  of  theBurgundy  with  the  lightness 
of  Champagne.  The  soil  of  the  Champagne  vineyards 
is  an  upper  stratum  of  marl,  and  a  substratum  of 
chalk.  Champagne  of  the  best  quality  will  pre- 
serve its  excellence  twenty  years,  provided  it  be 
kept  in  a  proper  temperature,  which  in  the  cellars 
of  Epernay,  is  always  maintained  at  54**. 

The  following  is  the  process  of  the  manufacture 
of  white  sparkling  Champagne  :  The  grapes  are 
picked  with  great  care,  the  shrivelled  or  unri{>e 
being  rejected.  They  are  gathered  early  in  the 
morning,  when  the  dew  is  u|)on  them  ;  and  it  is  a 
curious  fact,  that  if  the  weather  be  hazy  during  the 
time  of  the  vintage,  the  produce  of  the  fermenta- 
tion is  increased.  The  grapes  are  then  pressed. 
The  wine  that  is  produced  by  this  first  operation  is 
called  Tin  d' elite.  When  the  edges  of  the  muM 
have  been  cut  and  turned  into  the  middle,  a  second 
pressmg  takes  place,  from  which  is  produced  the 
Tin  de  taiU^.  The  liquor  is  collected  in  vats,  from 
which  it  is  removed  the  following  day  into  pun- 
cheons v\hich  have  been  sulphured.  There  the 
must  remains  till  towards  the  end  of  December, 
by  which  time  it  has  become  clear.  It  is  then 
raked  and  fined  with  isinglass,  and  six  weeks  af- 
terwards, it  is  raked  and  fined  a  second  time.  In 
the  month  of  March  it  is  bottled.  Six  weeks  after 
it  is  put  in  bottle,  it  becomes  brisk  ;  and  so  power- 
ful is  the  fermentation,  that  considerable  loss  is 
sustained  bv  the  bui-sting  of  bottles.  The  oss 
ui.on  the  various  operations,  occasions  a  total  loss 
of  about  25  per  cent.  The  chief  difference  be- 
tween the  manufacturing  (»f  white  and  ]unk  C  ham- 
pa^Mie  consists  in  the  grap(>s  for  the  latter  being 
fii-^^t  sli.rhtly  trodden,  and  the  fermentation  being 
allowed  to  commence  before  they  are  pressed,  in 
order  that  the  solution  of  the  colouring  matter  may 

be  facilitated. 

"  It  is  well  known,"  says  a  popular  writer  upon 
wines,  "  that  the  briskness  of  wine  is  the  jn'oduce 


\SlMo  UF  BOURlJi;  VI   \ 


[chap.  XXXVIII. 


i.f  all  inifinish.  .1  ti  rnu  ntatiuii.  This  quality  is  se- 
cured by  bottiiiii  at  the  proper  season,  before  fer- 
mentation is  !\!i  [listed  ;  and  if  in  danger  of  ex- 
cess, it  is  rc-'traHi.l  .ir  (liiniiiislu'il  l»y  racking,  or 
decanting,  «ii-  ■-uliihiiriiig.  Jiut  it  liaTifxiiH  not  un- 
frefjucntly,  that  it  fails  altogether,  citli  i  from  acci- 
dent in  the  management,  or  a  bad  season,  from 
faults  it!  tile  fruit,  or  fcrmontatinn  too  far,  or  a 
weak  wini-  exhausting  itself  unexpectedly,  in  this 
case,  the  remedy  is  to  introduce  sugar  into  the 
bottles,  as  well  as  into  the  casks.  In  the  latter 
case,  the  fermentation  is  renewed,  and  the  wine 
becomes  good  ;  but  by  introducing  sugar  into  the 
bottles,  much  bad  wine  is  produced.  The  sugar 
does  not  reproduce  fermentation,  but  disengages 
the  carbonic  acid  of  the  wine.  The  solid  sugar  is 
corkf'd  up  in  the  butt!(>,  so  that  the  disengaged  gas 
is  retained  under  the  pressure  of  the  cork,  ready 
to  fly  out  whenever  that  is  removed. 

The  Lyonnais  produces  the  well-known  wine 
ktiown  in  England  under  the  name  of  Cote-Roti. 
Uf  this  wine  1  have  spoken  in  that  chapter  of  this 
volume  which  contains  the  Descent  of  the  Rhone. 
Three  other  districts  are  also  celebrated  for  their 
wine  ; — the  neighbourhood  of  Avignon,  which  pro- 
duces Coteau  Brule  ;  JJiarn,  which  produces  Juran- 
f  >M  and  Gan ;  and  liomsilloti,  which  produces 
Barjnoh  and  Cosperon. 

the  following  note  upon  the  general  wine  trade 
of  I  ranee  (which  I  extmct  from  "  the  Wine-drink- 
er"^ Maiuial,"  taken  from  the  French  and  English 
Stat  !  * apers),  will  not  be  an  unfit  conclusion  to  this 
chapter  ;  — 

Tin-  laiid  now  under  wine  culfnre  is  estimated  at 
l.72K.O()0  hectares  (3,4!>!».2(M>  acres),  yielding 
4(),Ol)(»,(M)0  hectolitres  (a(H).()(M),0()()  gallons),  and 
giving  a  value  of  ()()l),<)()0,(»(K)  francs  (■2  4,O()(»,000/.) 
The  general  duties  yield  a  total  produce  of  100 
millions  (4,()0(>,(H)()'.)  ;  the  local  or  municijtal  du- 
ties, 2U,0U0,00U  francs  («Ut>,OOU/.)  *,  amounting, 
together,  to  a  charge  on  the  entire  produce  of  more 
than  20  per  cent.  According  to  M.  Dupin,  the  ex- 
pense of  levying  the  indirect  duties  amounts  to  the 
exorbitant  sum  of  -JOjiJOOjOOO  francs,  on  a  revenue 
of  l.'iH  niilUons  ;  while,  in  England,  the  expense  of 
collecting  similar  duties  does  not  exceed  7  millions 
in  VM\ 

The  (hities  to  which  tlu;  wines,  white  or  red,  are 
subject  in  \arious  countries,  are  as  follow  : — 

In  Sweden,  400  francs  the  pipe  ;  in  Norway,  200 
francs;  in  Prussia,  fj'jn  francs;  in  Russia,  7^0 
francs;  in  Enirlaud  (previous  to  the  alteration  of 
(hities),  1200  tVancs  ;  in  the  United  States,  189 
francs,  90  centimes. 

Previous  to  17nf>,  the  annual  i\j>.rtation  of  wines 
from  Hourtleaux  aniounteil  to  aiioiit  100,000  pipes. 
But  the  trade  has  greatly  dimiuisjud  since  that 
period.  Tin-  foUowing  is  the  amoimt  of  the  annual 
exportations  since  1819,  as  stated  in  a  petition  of 
the  wine-growers  to  the  eliauiln  r  of  deputies,  in 
the  spring  of  \\V2\\ : 


I'll'F.S. 

PI  PES. 

1820       . 

f>l,110 

1824 

39,625 

1821      . 

.    82.224 

182.',     . 

.     AVk'M  [ 

1 822 

:i!>. :):.:» 

18'28 

48,484 

lo'2:i     . 

.   .">i,r»:}9 

1827     . 

.     54,492 

The  documents  laid  before  the  chambei*s  by  the 
miuistrv,  state  the  average  value  of  the  three  years, 
1787  8  9,  at  32.0i>0,000  francs,  wine;  and 
17,000,000  francs,  brandy  ;  the  mean  \alue  of  the 


exportutio,,  for  1825—6—7,  at  48,000,000  francs  in 
wine,  and  20,000,000  francs  in  brandy.    In  France, 
great  complanits  hav  e,  therefore, been  made  within 
the  last  two  ^i  ars  ui  the  laiiguishing  and  depressed 
state  of  the  wine-tra.i.    ;  and  the  investigation  of 
its  actual  condititni  Iks-  occupied  nmch  of  the  time 
and  attention  of  the  French  government.     A  (lues- 
tion  has  been   raised,  whether  the  high  duties  im- 
posed on   French  wines  in  foreign  countries,  have 
brought  alK>ut  this  stagnation  and  want  of  demand 
now  experienced  \     And  it  has  been  shown,  that, 
with  the  exception  of  England,  the  foreign   tariffs 
cannot  have  contributed  much  to  this  effect.     The 
remedv  suggested,  and  indeed  the  only  probable 
one,  is*the  reduction  of  the  internal  duties.     The 
wine-growers   suffer    grievously,    not    only    from 
the  pressure  of   the  government  taxes,  or  droits 
(jeneraux,  but  also  from  the  duty  which  wine  pays 
on  entering  the  barrier  of  a  town,  and  from  which 
no  drawback  is  allowed  on  its  exit.     These  town- 
dues  are  very  arbitrary,  and  in  some  places  so  ex- 
cessive, that  it  is  by  no  means  uncommon  to  find 
French    wines    dearer    at    home   than    in    other 
European  countries.     The  octroi  of  Paris  is  twenty- 
one  francs  (17s.  6d.)  per  hectolitre,  although  the 
quarter  part  of  the   wine  consumed  is  not  worth 
more  than  fifteen  francs  (12s.  6d.)  the  hectolitre  ; 
and  it  is  a  strange  anomaly,  that  those  who  wish  to 
get  wine  at  a  moderate  price,  cannot  do  it  without 
step])ing  outside  of  one  of  the  barriei-s  of  l*aris. 

We  have  stated  six  hundred  millions  of  francs 
to  be  the  value  of  the  annual  produce  of  wine  in 
France.  Of  this,  one  hundred  millions  are  exacted 
by  the  droits  gcnernux,  and  twenty  millions  more  by 
the  octroi,  making  a  total  taxation  of  one-fifth  part 
of  the  whole.  The  proprietors  of  the  vineyards 
have  repeatedly  petitioned  for  liberation  from  these 
restrictions  ;  and  in  everj'  case  where  relief  has 
been  granted,  the  increase  of  consumption  has  sur- 
passed expectation.  At  Bourdeaux,  where  the  duty 
is  one-half  less  than  in  Paris,  twice  as  much  wine 
is  consumed,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  inha- 
bitants, as  in  the  French  meti-opolis. 

The  consunjption  of  French  wines  in  France  has 
very  naturally  increased  with  the  increase  of  na- 
tional weahh.  !  a  1821,  the  quantity  retailed,  and, 
of  course,  chietiy  coiisuiii.il  liv  the  lower  classes, 
scarcely  amounted  to  12,900,000  hectolitres  (twenty- 
five  gallons  per  hectolitre)  ;  in  1826,  it  exceeded 
14,400,000.  The  quantity  sold  wholesale  exhibits 
a  still  more  strongly-marked  produce  ;  in  1818,  it 
was  2  685,948  hectolitres  ;  \n  1828,  it  amounted  to 
3,973,488. 

The  quantity  of  French  wine  imported  into  the 
United  Kingdom  of  (ireat  Britain  and  Ireland, 
in  the  year  endini:  January  1829,  amounted  to 
475,374  gallons  ;  tlu'  amount  of  duty  paid  reached 
172,000/.  12>-.  (id.  ;  and  the  quantity  remaining  in 
bond  was  510,818  gallons. 

It  is  a  ]iity  that  we  have  no  popular  treatise  on 
wines,  containing  all  that  might  be  interesting  to 
know  about  the  most  esteemed  wines  of  France, 
Spain,  PortUixal,  aril  C  iniany.  The  work  of  Mr. 
Henderson,  besides  li.  iii„'  too  ex[>ensiye,  is  more  a 
history  of  wines  than  a  treatise  upon  their  points 
of  interest.  'I'lu  information  that  would  be  desir- 
able could  not  be  obtained,  unless  in  the  different 
countries  where  the  wines  are  ])roduc<Ml  ;  and  so 
extensive  a  journey,  and  inquiries  so  nndtitudincus, 
cannot  be  expectetl  to  J>e  undertaken  for  buch  a 


CHAP.  XXXIX.] 


ITINERARY  OF  T 


I /J  I  HE. 


119 


purpose.  There  is  therefore  little  or  no  likelihood 
of  the  world  being  put  in  possession  of  such  a 
treatise  as  I  have  supposed  might  be  acceptable. 


LiiAPTER  XXXIX. 

ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 

Nantes  and  its  Environs — Journey  to  Saumur — State  of  the 
French  Peasantry — Ancennis  and  its  charming  Scenei> — 
Scenery  of  Bretagne — Ingrande — Angers — The  Castle  and 
its  History  — Environs  —  A  Grape  Diet— Saumur — The 
Castle  of  Fontevrauld,  and  its  History. 

Mv  limits  will  not  permit  me  to  detail  my  journey 
fn)m  Bourdeaux  to  Nantes,  and  also  from  Nantes 
up  the  Loire  to  Orleans  ;  and  as  the  latter  part  of 
this  route  is  the  more  interesting,  I  shall  take  the 
liberty  of  ti'ansporting  the  reader  at  once  from 
Bourdeaux  to  Nantes,  there  to  commence  an  itine- 
rary of  the  Loire,  which  will  occupy  the  remainder 
of  this  volume.  No  part  of  France  is  so  celebi*ated 
for  natural  beauty,  as  well  as  for  the  interest  of  the 
cities  and  towns  which  lie  along  the  route,  as  the 
country  bordering  the  Loire  ;  and,  in  order  that  I 
might  be  able  to  devote  some  pages  to  a  sketch  of 
this  route,  I  have  curtailed  considerably  my  de- 
scription of  Bourdeaux  and  its  environs.  1  left 
Bourdeaux  en  dillyencej  and  arrived  m  due  time  at 
Nantes. 

Nantes,  even  to  one  arriving  in  it  from  Bour- 
deaux, is  a  noble  city  ;  and  its  situation  can 
scarcely  be  excelled.  It  stands  upon  the  slopes 
and  summit  of  a  gentle  hill,  half  encii-cled  by  the 
Loire,  which  is  broad,  clear,  and  tolerably  ra,- 
pid  ;  and  its  beauty  is  greatly  increased  by  several 
islets  which  dot  the  river  exactly  opposite  to  the 
town,  and  which  are  covered  with  pretty  country- 
houses  and  gardens.  The  Loire  is  extremely  shal- 
low, where  it  flows  past  Nantes  ;  which,  although 
rather  adding  to  its  beauty  than  otherwise,  from 
the  greater  rapidity  and  clearness  created  by  the 
shallows,  is  very  detrimental  to  commerce.  No 
vessel  of  burthen  can  ascend  the  river  to  the  city, 
but  is  obliged  to  unload  its  car^o  nine  leagues  dis- 
tant ;  and  the  cargo  is  brought  up  the  river  in 
boats.  There  is  a  magnificent  quay  along  the 
river-side  ;  but  I  saw  little  appearance  of  trade. 

Nantes  was  the  ancient  residence  of  the  dukes 
of  Bretagne  ;  and,  upon  a  hill  to  the  east  of  the  city, 
stands  the  castle  of  these  princes.  This  castle  was 
built  in  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century  ;  but 
the  duke  of  Mercueur,  who,  during  the  wars  of  the 
League  in  the  sixteenth  century,  made  himself 
sovereign  of  this  }>rovince,  made  many  additions  to 
it.  The  castle  is  still  in  excellent  ])reservatioii  ; 
f(»r,  although  it  must  have  yielded  to  the  influence 
of  nine  hundred  yeai-s,  the  rejiairs  which  have  from 
time  to  time  become  necessary,  have  been  made  in 
the  original  style  of  the  building,  so  that  there  can- 
not exist  a  more  perfect  specimen  of  the  architec- 
ture of  these  times,  than  is  seen  in  the  castle  of 
Nantes.  I  spent  one  whole  day  in  this  castle  and 
in  its  precincts,  and  was  pleased  with  all  that  1 
saw.  The  recollections  awakened  in  the  contem- 
jilation  of  feudal  castles,  are  more  stirring,  and  to 
me  more  agreeable,  than  those  whieh  are  forced 
upon  us  amid  the  ruins  of  monasteries  and  abbeys. 
It  is  true  that  the  inhabitants  of  these  castles  were 


generally  robbers — that  their  lives  were  rude  and 
lawless — and  that  the  scenes  which  their  walls  have 
witnessed  have  most  generally  been  scenes  of  rapine 
and  bloodshed.  But  in  all  this,  and  in  the  vices 
which  clung  to  the  feudal  lords  and  their  followers, 
there  is  something  more  stirring — even  more  noble 
than  in  the  vices  that,  within  a  convent's  walls,  are 
forced  to  call  in  the  aid  of  hypocrisy.  In  the 
chapel  of  this  castle,  Anne,  duchess  of  Bretagne, 
gave  her  hand  to  Louis  XII.  in  the  year  1499,  by 
which  man'iage  this  province  was  secured  to  the 
French  crown.  Almost  every  chamber  has  its 
story — among  others,  I  saw  the  chamber  in  which 
the  cardinal  de  Retz  was  confined,  and  from  w  Inch 
he  escaped  by  means  of  a  rope,  which  lowere<l  him 
into  a  boat  on  the  Loire.  The  view  from  the  sum- 
mit of  the  castle  is  fine  and  extensive,  commanding 
a  great  ])art  of  the  province  of  Bretagne,  the  fine 
reach  of  the  Loii'e  above,  and  its  descent  towards 
the  sea. 

In  the  Eglise  des  Cannes,  there  is  a  splendid  mo- 
nument I'aised  by  the  filial  duty  of  Anne  of  Bre- 
tagne, queen  of  France,  to  the  memory  of  her 
father,  Fi*ancis  the  Second,  the  last  duke  of  Bre- 
tagne. The  monument  is  the  work  of  Michael 
Columb,  and  does  great  honour  to  his  genius.  The 
heart  of  this  dutiful  daughter  is  deposited  in  this 
vault  in  a  gold  box.  There  is  a  curious  inscription 
on  the  tomb.  It  states,  that  Francis,  not  being 
blessed  with  issue  by  his  first  wife,  and  despairing, 
after  seven  years  of  wedded  life,  of  having  his 
wishes  realised,  made  a  vow  to  the  Virgin,  that  if 
her  power  of  intercession  should  procure  a  child 
for  him,  he  would  dedicate  to  her  an  image  of  gold 
as  heavy  as  himself.  So  magnificent  an  offering  in 
reversion  had  its  influence  upon  the  Virgin,  who 
blessed  his  jirayer  ;  and  the  duke  did  not  neglect 
the  performance  of  liis  vow.  But  sometime  after- 
wards, he  forgot  his  obligations  to  his  benefactor — 
he  had  need  of  money,  and  melted  down  the  image. 

Nantes  is  a  very  ancient  city.  It  is  the  (Intm 
Namnetuiii  of  Coesar,  and  was  a  town  of  considerable 
consequence  under  the  Roman  prefects.  Several 
Romari  inscriptions  have,  from  time  to  time,  been 
found  ;  and  there  is  another  ancient  record  that 
arrests  the  passer-by.  It  is  a  stone  fixed  in  a 
wall,  marking  the  s}>ot  where,  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  the  Seventh,  Gilles,  mar^chal  de  Retz,  was 
burnt.  A  story  that  nobody  can  credit  is  told  re- 
specting this  affair.  It  is  said,  that  the  crimes  for 
whieh  tliis  man  suffered  death  were  of  a  nature  too 
horrible  to  be  named  ;  and  that  the  trial  of  the 
mare'chal  is  yet  preserved  sealed,  in  the  arelii\  es 
of  the  city. 

The  environs  of  Nantes  are  remarkably  pleasant, 
particularly  the  banks  of  a  little  stream  called  the 
Erdne.  Fine  oak  and  chesnut  woods  shade  its 
margin  ;  and  gardens  and  jtretty  country-houses 
are  thickly  scattered  around.  There  are  also  two 
ancient  chateaux  on  the  same  route,  within  a  league 
of  Nantes  ;  one  of  them  called  the  Chatmu  de  la 
Verriere,  formerly  a  stronghold  of  the  Hugonots  ; 
the  other,  once  the  residence  of  Peter  Landais,  the 
favourite  of  Fraucis  the  Second.  On  this  side  of 
the  town,  there  is  a  considerable  quantity  of  land 
in  vineyard  ;  but  the  wine  ]>roduced  from  it  is  thin, 
sour,  and  consecjuently  l)ad. 

1  must  not  omit  tit  mention,  that  the  duchy  <»f 
Bretagne  was  the  biithqjlace  of  Abelard,  whose 
amours  and  misfortunes  have  given  so  much  scope 


120 


ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 


[chap.  XXXIX. 


for  t!u-  <;enius  of  the  poet  aa<l  the  novcHst.  He 
was  born  in  a  Httle  village  called  Le  iWf^,  situated 
abcut  four  lea«;ues  from  NanteH. 

At  Nantes,  I  ai,'ain,  and  f<»r  the  last  time  in  this 
jouriu'V,  resumed  my  pedestrian  character  ;  and 
kit  that  city,  to  walk  up  the  Loire,  one  beautiful 
morninL,'  abosit  six  o'clock.  The  itinerary  of  the 
Loire,  to  the  traveller  who  commences  his  journey 
from  Nantes,  bej,Mns  deli^^htfully  ;  and  after  the 
two  hundred  miles  of  diligence-travelling  from 
Bourdeaux,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  almost  beginning  a 
new  existence.  Softness  and  beauty  are  the  cha- 
racter (jf  the  scenery,  which  is  chi.  tiy  a  union  of 
green  meadows  and  wooded  hills,  generally  clothed 
to  the  sunnnit,  and  many  of  them  adorned  by  the 
ruins  (.f  castles.  1  breakfasted  at  a  little  village, 
siaiatedVpon  a  gentle  hill.  I  ought  to  remember 
the  name  of  the  village  ;  for  I  still  recollect  the 
flavour  of  some  i-aspberries  and  delicious  cream, 
which  formed  an  item  in  the  breakfast,  and  the 
]»l('asant  smile  and  beautiful  teeth,  aiid  neat  coiffure 
oi  mndemuUelh',  the  daughter  of  the  house,  who 
waits  upon  travellers ^  but  I  have  forgotten  the 
name  both  of  the  village  ar.d  of  the  aul)€rge  ;  so  that 
no  other  travtlh  r  cun  divide  with  me  the  pleasure 
of  these  iTcoUectious. 

AH  the  way  from  Nantes  Ui  Oudon  the  country 
is  populous.  This  is  not  the  district  of  large  pro- 
prietoi-s  ;  an  orchard  and  a  bit  of  meadow-land 
form  an  estate  ;  and  the  cottage  of  the  proprietor 
pcej.s  out  from  among  his  forest-trees.  This  is  a 
Hue  state  of  things  ;  and,  with  a  tolerably  intimate 
knowledge,  and  distinct  recollection  of  the  lower 
orders  in  Fiance,  1  am  incUned  to  assert,  that, 
n\H,u  the  whole,  the  peasantry  of  France  are  the 
hapi)iest  peasantry  of  any  country  in  Kurope. 
Throughout  the  greater  part  vi'  France,  the  climate 
is  temperati — neither  <Hstinguished  by  severe  cold 
nor  extreme  heat.  Tliis  is  no  small  item  in  the 
sum  of  hai.i»iiiess.  Whoever  has  seen  the  effects 
of  southern  summers  and  ncn-thern  winters,  uiK.n 
the  condition  of  a  people,  will  agree  with  me  in  this 
opinion.  The  French  peasant  extracts  pleasure 
from  small  sources  ;  he  is  a  man  of  many  shifts, 
and  has  thi>  art  of  treading  lightly  over  the  rough 
steps  in  the  path  of  life  ;  and,  besides,  thes(>  are 
in  fact  fewer  in  France  than  in  most  <.ther  coun- 
tries. France  is  not  over-})eopled.  Country  labour 
is  generally  to  be  had  ;  and  its  rewards,  altlKJUgh 
small,  are  suthcient  to  supply  the  coudorts,  and 
even  the  little  luxuries,  of  a  peasant's  life.  In 
France,  too,  a  great  proportion  of  the  land  i.>  the 
property  of  the  jieasaiitry,  who  form  a  class  almost 
unknown  in  England, and  wh(»  are  luq.i'ier  than  the 
same  class  in  other  countries.  The  Swiss  peasant 
is,  indeed,  as  much  a  proprietor,  and  generally  a 
richer  i)roprietor,  than  the  French  peasant  ;  but 
his  life  is  a  life  of  labour,  because  his  climate  ren- 
ders labour  necessary  ;  and  his  character  is  also 
ditterent.  This  is,  after  all,  the  most  important 
matter,  and  the  chief  advantage  v  hich  the  French 
peasant  i)ossesses  ;  at  least,  without  this,  his  other 
advantages  would  be  useless.  He  looks  ui»on  the 
sunny  side  of  the  jticture  ;  and  so  as  the  sun  shines 
a  little  way  around  him,  he  does  not  trouble  him- 
self whether  it  enlightens  more  (Hstant  paths.  He 
is  not  one  of  the  class  called  "  most  tliinking  per- 
sons ;"— lie  never  tliinks,  excepting  of  himself.  Ins 
faniilv,  his  cottage,  a!id  his  apple-trees.  Neilher  is 
he  of  the   class    of  reading   men  ;~  he   reads   his 


prayer-book,  and  the  songs  and  ballads  of  his 
country.  Neither  is  he  a  politician  ;— he  leaves  it 
to  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities  to  settle  state  affairs. 
He  i-eceives,  indeed,  with  good-will,  the  blessings  of 
pohtical  freedom  when  they  are  tendered  to  him, 
and  congratulates  himself  upon  heu)gun  Fran^ah; 
but  such  matters  do  not  occupy  his  mind  ;  and  if 
the  question  were,  whether  he  should  attend  a 
pohtical  meeting,  or  a /T^e  du  TilUuje,  he  would  stick 
a  nosegay  in  his  breast,  and  a  ribbon  in  his  hat,  and 
seek  tlie  village-green. 

I  found  an  appetite  for  dinner  sooner  than  an 
auberge  wherein  to  indulge  it  ;  but  in  this  route, 
the  want  of  an  auberge  need  not  prevent  the  tra- 
veller fnmi  satisfying  his  hunger.  Bread,  cheese, 
eggs,  fruit,  and  n'lilk,  may  be  had  in  every  cottage  ; 
and  ill  every  cottage  he  is  welcome  to  these  luxu- 

nes. 

The  whole  of  my  walk  this  evening  was  beautiful 
in  the  extreme.  Although  the  river  flowed  close 
to  the  road,  or  at  least  but  a  very  small  distance 
from  it,  it  was  only  visible  glancing  between  the 
trees  and  tlirough  the  hedges  ;  for  a  thick  belt  of 
wood,  chiefiy  fruit-trees,  bt>rdered  its  bank,  and 
covered  the  narrow  meadows  that  lay  between  it 
and  the  road.  Broken  wooded  heights  lay  on  the 
other  side  ;  and  shady  i)aths,  that  reminded  me  of 
the  English  lanes,  led  from  the  river  up  the  hills, 
or  into  the  little  valleys,  or  hollows  that  lay  among 

them. 

The  api)roach  to  Ancennis  is  delightful.  It  is 
the  perfection  of  forest-scenery.  And  here,  as  in 
our  Sherwood,  has  many  a  story  and  ballad  been 
laid,  and  many  a  feat  of  archery  been  done  ;  and 
here  too  fairy  circles  have  been  traced,  and  the 
merry  elves,  "  though  rarely  seen  by  mortal  eye," 
have  frisked  it  "  in  the  cold  moon's  gleamy  glance." 
There  is  no  walk  like  a  torest-walk,  especially  near 
sunset  ;  for  there  is  no  sight  in  nature  more  beau- 
tiful than  the  slanting  sun-beams  pouring  among 
the  crowded  trunks  of  the  dark  trees,  partially 
gilding  the  foliage,  and  chequering  the  velvet  be- 
neath with  the  broad  masses  of  light  and  shade. 
Somethnes  an  alley,  open  to  the  west,  admitted  a 
rich  blaze  of  light  that  streamed  through  the  forest ; 
sometimes  I  passed  out  of  the  shade  into  an  oi>en 
gla(h',  that  seemed  clothed  in  a  gannent  of  light ; 
and    sometimes    1    skirted    the    denser   masses  of 

woo<l, 

Wliere  not  a  wandering  ray 

Could  thro'  the  leafy  labyrinth  find  its  way. 
All  this  was  impressive  and  delightful.  I  met  not 
a  siiM'le  traveller,  nor  heard  any  sound,  until  some 
village-sounds  announced  that  I  was  approaehing 
Ancennis,  wliieli  I  soon  after  reached  ;  and  lo(-king 
about  for  the  sign  of  an  aul)erge,  I  saw  two  adjoin- 
ing ( aeh  other  ;  one,  a  pig  ;  the  other,  a  bow  and 
arrow.  It  is  a  pleasant  speculation  to  consider 
what  kind  of  inn  one  may  chance  to  find  at  the  end 
of  a  journey  ;  and  there  is  always  something  agree- 
able in  having  a  choice  of  nvn-v  than  one.  Tlu 
"  I'ig"  was  the  larger  auberge  ;  but  tlu- "  li<;wan(l 
AiT(»w"  looked  the  cleaner  ;  and  I  walked  into  it. 
1  could  not  have  chosen  belter.  Fried  bacon,  eggs, 
and  an  (omelet,  l>read,  and  as  good  wine  as  one  ge- 
nerally finds  in  the  Freucli  inns,  were  all  set  liefore 
me  wi'ih  the  most  marvellous  exjiedition.  It  is  a 
great  misfortune  if  a  traveller  in  France,  especially 
a  foot-ti-aveller,  whose  day's  journey  often  conducts 
him  to  the  smaller  inns, 'should  happen   to  dislike 


CHAP.  XXXIX.] 


ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 


121 


omelet.  It  may  be  difficult  to  believe  that  any  such 
person  exists  ;  but  I  have  seen  and  travelled  with 
persons  so  unfortunate  ;  and  when  I  have  been  en- 
joying an  excellent  meal,  they  have  been  obliged  to 
content  themselves  with  the  purer  pleasure  of  s^tti- 
pathising  in  my  good  fortune.  Every  where  in 
France,  even  in  the  poorest  auberge,  an  omelet  is 
to  be  obtained  :  either  omrlctte  mere,  omelette  cjras, 
or  omelette  aufnes  herbes.  What  a  choice  is  there  ! 
One  might  very  well  begin  with  an  omelette  gras, 
make  a  remove  of  the  omelette  au  fines  herf>es,  and 
finish  with  an  omelette  mere  by  way  of  dessert. 

Ancennis  is  a  charming  retreat :  nowdiere  could 
a  studious  man  spend  a  month  or  two  more  agree- 
ably. It  is  very  quiet,  very  secluded,  and  is  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  varieties  of  forest-scenery.  The 
Loire,  too,*sweeps  near  it,  broad  and  silvery  ;  and 
the  people  seem  simple  and  obliging.  Let  me  add 
the  recommendation  of  cheapness  ;  for  an  admirable 
supper,  a  clean  good  bed,  and  a  draught  of  most 
delicious  milk  next  morning — not  to  mention  kind 
attentions,  civil  words,  and  a  world  of  smiles — I 
paid  only  two  francs.  Let  the  reader  recollect,  that 
all  these  excellent  things  are  to  be  had  at  the  sign 
of  the  "  Bow  and  Aitow."  After  supper,  it  wanted 
still  an  hour  of  darkness  ;  and  I  was  leaving  the 
imi  to  stroll  about  the  village  and  its  neighbour- 
hood, when  a  little  girl  about  nine  years  of  age, 
the  daughter  of  the  aubergiste,  offered  to  be  my 
cicerone,  and  conduct  Monsieur  to  the  bosquet.  I 
saw  many  pretty  spots  that  almost  tempted  me  to 
interrupt' my  journey  by  a  few  weeks'  dreaming  at 
Ancennis;  and  was  led  by  the  little  girl  to  the  pro- 
mised bosquet,  which  was  a  labyrinth  of  trees,  with 
many  seats  among  the  branches,  where  little  games 
at  "hide-and-seek"  are  played  by  the  villagers. 
The  little  girl  assured  me,  that  the  b<x^quet  was  bien 
gentll,  and  that  a  village /t*//'  there  was  superbe. 

I   left  Ancennis   as  usual  with  the  early  sun  to 
reach  Angers.     The  country,  this  morning,  did  not 
greatly  differ  from  that  which  I  had  passed  through 
before  reaching   the  forest  of  Ancennis  ;  and  the 
appearance  of  the  peasantry  rather  improved  than 
declined  ;  they   every  where   seemed  healthy   and 
happy  ;  and  their  cottages  showed  no  indication  of 
poverty.     I  breakfasted   at  a  small  cottage  which 
displayed  the  sign  of  a  bread  loaf,  and  which  afforded 
milk  besides  ;  and  continued  my  journey   to    In- 
t;rande,   where  I  only  intended   to   have  rested  an 
hour  ;  but  one  of  th.'  little  acci<lents,  which  some- 
times happen  to  ])e(lestrians,  disarrangcMl  my  i>lan. 
I    ha<l  bathed   in  the  river,  and  hi  stejipinu'  along 
the  bank,  a  thorn  ran   into  my  foot  ;  and  1  judged 
it  wiser  to   remain  at   Ingrande,  than  proljably  to 
increases   the   evil  by  attempting  to  reach  Angei-s. 
In-;rande  was  not  so  tempting  a  place  of  residence 
as"!\ncennis  ;  but   the  auberge  was  not  despical)le, 
and  the   barn-yard  furnished  a  fowl.     This  is  the 
last   town    in   the    ])rovince    of    Bretagne.       From 
Ingrande  to  Angei-s,  the  road  lies  through  Avjuu. 

/>r<f<t</ne  is  one  of  the  few  French  provinces  I 
like.  Its  scenes  have  a  character  of  wildness  and 
seclusion  ;  and  are  not  without  claims  even  to  the 
merit— if  it  be  a  merit—(»f  being  romantic  ;  and  in 
the  immediate  neighl)ourhood  of  the  Loire,  Bre- 
tagne is  beautiful,  as  well  as  romantic.  There  is 
certainly  in  the  scenery  of  the  Loire,  a  fine  ming- 
ling of  nature  and  art,  such  ])erhaps  as  is  not  else- 
where to  be  found  ;  for,  indei)eiidently  of  the  culti- 
vation which  assists  nature  in  a  scene  where  softness 


is  herchief  cliaracteristic,  andthe  mau<ons  dejlupince 
which  are  so  numerous  u]>on  its  banks,  the  remains 
of  chateaux,  and  religious  houses,  which  so  often 
and  so  beautifully  lavak  the  outline  of  the  wooded 
hills,  add  greatly  to  the  perfection  of  this  union. 
How  much  is  the  picturesque  beauty  of  many  coun- 
tries indebted  to  the  monks  of  former  tin\es  !  The 
loveliest  spots  are  adorned  by  the  ruins  of  their 
habitations.  Shelter  from  the  winds  ;  sunny  slopes 
for  their  gardens,  or  vineyards  ;  a  river  for  fish, 
and  a  forest  for  game,  were  all  considered  in  the 
choice  of  a  site.  We  have  no  occasion  to  travel  in 
order  to  become  acquainted  with  the  discernment 
of  the  monks  in  the  selection  of  fitting  spots  for 
their  abbeys.  At  home,  we  have  no  w  ant  of  exam- 
])les  :  Tintern,  Jarvis  Abbey,  Fumess,  Woburn, 
Fountains  Abbey,  Melrose,  Uryburgh,  and  many 
others  in  England  and  in  Scotland,  attest  the  good 
taste  of  the  f  i-iars,  and  the  dark  ages. 

I  left  Ingrande  early,  and,  passing  through  a  fer- 
tile and  varied  country,  I  reached  Angers  about 
mid-day.  The  situation  of  Angei-s  is  not  so  striking 
as  some  other  of  the  cities  that  lie  up(»ii  the  Loire  ; 
it  is  placed  hi  a  fertile  plahi,  rich  in  all  the  produc- 
tions of  Anjou — certainly  one  of  the  most  fertile 
provinces  of  France.  The  city  is  divided  by  the 
little  river  Mayenne,  into  the  haute  and  the  hassti 
town.  In  1214,  our  king  John  built  the  walls  of 
Angers,  and  they  are  to  this  day  almost  entire.  A 
little  later,  the  castle  of  Angers  was  built.  It  is 
nearly  in  ruins,  and  is  a  fine  object,  situated  upon  a 
great  rock  overhan«j:ing  the  river.  It  must  formerly 
have  been  a  place  of  great  strength,  for  the  walls 
are  very  massive  ;  and  the  fosses,  which  are  cut 
out  of  the  rock,  are  wide  and  deep.  This  castle, 
built  l)y  St.  Louis,  was  formerly  the  residence  of  the 
kings  of  Sicily,  as  dukes  of  Anjou. 

I  spent  the  evening  of  my  arrival  in  the  castle  ; 
and  the  next  morning  I  dedicated  to  the  ciithedral  ; 
which,  more  from  tlie  recollectii»ns  it  awakens,  than 
from  its  own  intrinsic  merits,  is  viewed  with  great 
interest.  In  this  cathetlral  is  the  monument  of  the 
celebrated  Margaret,  daughter  of  Rene,  king  of 
Sicily,  and  wife  of  our  Henry  the  Sixth.  There  is 
some  romance  in  the  history  of  this  princess.  Taken 
prisoner  in  the  battle  of  Tewkesbury,  she  was  sent 
a  prisoner  to  the  tower  ;  and  was  subse(iuently 
i-ansomed  by  Louis  XL,  who,  however,  had  views 
verv  different  from  those  prompted  ])y  generosity, 
in  iiis  seemintjly  friendly  interposition.  Margaret 
was  tenderly  beloved  by  her  father  ;  and  when  the 
crafty  king  made  the  renunciation  of  Anjou  and 
part  of  Lorraine  the  i>rice  of  her  delivery,  lUnt: 
hesitated  not  to  complete  the  transference  of  these 
jn-ovinces.  Subsequently  to  this  time,  she  resided 
at  All,  in  Provence,  under  the  protection  of  her 
father  ;  and  at  his  death  she  retired  to  Vanms, 
where  she  found  an  asylum  in  the  house  of  a  gen- 
tleman named  Vignole,'  who  had  formerly  served 
her  father,  and  had  received  benefits  from  him.  It 
wiis  while  Margaret  resided  here  in  retirement, 
that  she  was  visited  by  Henry  earl  of  Richmond, 
afterwards  the  con<iueror  at  Bosworth  field  ;  and 
her  instigations  and  advice  fixed  him  in  his  deter- 
mination to  attemi)t  the  overthrow  of  the  house  of 
York.  But  Margaret  did  not  live  to  witness  the 
success  of  his  enterprise. 

Angers,  in  its  geneml  appearance,  is  mean. 
There  is  nothhig  attmctive  in  it,  excepting  its 
cathedral  and  its  castle.     I  never  saw  so  great  au 


122 


ITi.NERAliY   Ui'  Tiii.  LUiKE. 


[chap.  XXXIX. 


assemblage  ijf  wrLtehtd  liuuso  in  susmaii  roiupass. 
Every  street  is  a  street  of  shopkeepers  ;  but  where 
the  purchasers  live,  I  cannot   understand.     Walls 
and     fort iticat ions    are    a   sad     hindrance    to    the 
beauty  of  a  town,  by  limiiing  its  extent  ;  but  where 
there  is  a  sufficiency  of  ground  beyond  the  walls, 
and  num(>rous  fine  situations,  it  is  folly  to  confine  a 
city  within  its  ancient  limits.     Angers  would  be  a 
cheaper  place  of  residence   than   either   Tours   or 
BloU  ;  but  it  is  better  to  live  in  an  agreeable  town, 
and  to  pay  an  additional  penny  for  a  pound  of  meat. 
I  found  the  markets  of  Angei-s   well  supplied,  and 
the  price  of  provisions  remarkably  low.     Beef  and 
mutton  were  2d.  per  lb.  Bnad,  l^d.  per  lb.  A  pair 
of  fowls  may  be  purchased  for  Is.  2d.  ;  and  a  turkey 
costs  no  more  than  3s.     Fruit  and  vegetables  are 
remarkably  cheap.     There  is  a  pleasiint  wine,  too, 
whicii   sells  at  about  2^d.  per  bottle,  called  Cham- 
p'ufny.      House-rent  is  also  extremely  moderate  ; 
but  few  of  the  houses  are  agreeably  situated  for  a 
residence.  For  10/.  i>cr  atunnn,  a  very  commodious 
house  may  be  ol>tained.     But  notwithstanding  these 
advantages,  I  should  not  select  Angers  as  a  resi- 
dence :  and  although  its  neighbourhood  be  fertile 
and   f'yinfc,  1    saw   no  villas.     The  neighbourhood 
of  Angei-s,   however,   ha.s    many    pretty    cottages 
standing  in  the  midst  of  their  gardens,  whose  fences 
are  generally  half  composed  of  vines  ;  and  these 
also  usually   cover   the    cottage-walls    with    their 
fantastic    vvreaths,    bright    leaves,    and    tempting 
clusters. 

There  are  some  Roman  remains  in  Angers,  par- 
ticularly vvsti<j:i-s  of  iin  H<{iH'duct ;  but  these  are  only 
interesting  to  the  anti(iuanan.  Angers  has  need  of 
an  a<iut-v{uot  ntili  ;  fur  the  water  of  the  Mayonne, 
that  flows  through  the  town,  is  not  fit  for  use. 

I'revious  to  the  Hevohition,  Angers  possessed  a 
verv  celebrated  university,  which  was  founded  so 
far  back  as  the  vear  124<»".  Its  academy  of  Bdles 
Lett  res  was  also  renowned  ;  and  its  riding-school  was 
so  famous,  that  Peter  the  (heat  was  a  pupil^  in  it. 
Aii.i;ers  suffered  greatly  in  the  wars  of  La  Vemite ; 
and"  the  inhabitants  su^taine<l  many  pinvations  in  the 
siege  which  it  was  obliged  to  nuiintain. 

A  severe  and  sudden  storm  hindered  my  depar- 
ture on  the  moi-ning  <>f  tb<'  seeontl  day,  as  I  had  in- 
tended ;  and  when,  Knvards  the  afternoon,  the  storm 
ceased,  it  was  too  late  to  set  out,  and  1  devoted 
the  evening  to  a  v\aliv  int.-  the  adjoining  country. 
It  is  mostly  a  country  of  vin*  vanls  ;  and  the  inha- 
bitants are,  therefore,  almost  all  rhjutruiis.  1  rested 
HI  several  of  their  cottages,  and  found  them  all  com- 
fortable ;  and  the  inmates  appeared,  and  1  have  no 
doubt  were,  all  happy.  Most  of  them  were  at  sup- 
per, which  consisted  of  bread,  and  fruit,  and  wine. 
It  was  not  the  season  of  vintage  ;  but  then,  and 
after  that  time,  grapes  nuiy  be  said  to  be  the  staple 
article  of  subsistence.  1  believe  every  one  has 
agreed  that  a  grape-diet  is  wholesome.  The  inha- 
bitants of  the  wine-countries  have  generally  the 
a|)|.earance  of  health.  It  is  not  unusual  for  the 
j>hysicians  in  some  parts  of  France,  and  particu- 
larly, I  believe,  in  the  eastern  ]>rovinces,  to  recom- 
nund  a  i:rape-di<'t  wholly  in  many  cases  of  debility  ; 
and,  judging  from  my  own  experience,  when,  in  hot 
countries  and  during  the  vintage,  1  have  lived 
almost  wholly  on  grapes,  1  should  tinnk  grapes  in 
lar<Te  ([uantities  fonn  a  most  wholesome  article  of 
diet.  1  never  recolUet,  at  any  other  period,  of  enjoy- 
ing more  perfect  health,  and  of  possessing  so  nmch 


buoyancy  of  feeling,  as  when,  during  six  weeks,  I 
half-breakfasted  upon  grapes,  half-dined  upon 
gra])es,  and  supped  altngothi'r  upon  gi'ai)es. 

1  now  left  Angei-s  for  Saumnr,  which  is  thirteen 
leagues  from  Angere.  The  weather  was  too  hot  to 
render  so  long  a  walk  agreeable,  and  1  therefore 
hired  a  cabriolet  to  can-y  me  one-half  of  the  way. 
Anjou,  at  least  all  that  part  of  it  which  1  had  an 
opportunity  of  seeing,  will  not  yield  in  fertility, 
scarcely  in  beauty,  to  any  other  part  of  France. 
Much  of  it  is  corn-land  ;  but  there  is  a  sufficient 
admixture  of  wood  and  meadow  to  rescue  it  entirely 
from  the  character  of  tameness.  When  my  ca- 
briolet left  me,  1  had  a  delightful  walk  of  about  six 
leagues  ;  an  !  it  was  nearly  sunset  when  I  reached 
Saunuir. 

Sauiuur  is  a  pleasant  little  town,  situated  on  the 
southern  side  of  the  Loire  ;  and  it  has  a  very  long 
bridge,  whose  middle  piei-s  rest  upon  islands.     This 
bridge,  in  th(>  wars  of  the  sixteenth  century,  was 
often  fiercely  disputed  ;  and  the  fortifications  were 
formerly  of 'great  strength.    The  castle  is  a  striking 
object,  overlooking  the  town  and  the  river.     The 
kings  of  Sicily,  and  the  dukes  of  the  house  of  Va- 
lois,  used   foraierly  to   reside  occasionally  in  this 
castle.     From  its  towers  there  is  a  truly  channing 
prospect.     This  place  I  should  greatly  prefer  as  a 
residence  to  Angers  ;  the  town  is  more  airy  and 
lively,  the  country  quite  as  beautiful,  and  provisions 
even  a  shade  cheaper.     It  struck  me,  too,  that  the 
iidiabitants   were  remarkably  good-looking  ;    and 
this,  I  think,  is  not  to  be  altogether  overlooked  in 
the  selectioji  of  a  residence.      It  is  almost  an  intel- 
lectual pleasure  to  look  upon  a  beautiful  counte- 
nanoo  ;  at  all  events,  it  is  pain  to  look  upon  the 
reverse,  where  personal  acquaintance  has  not  taught 
us,  by  habit,  to  look  u])on  ugliness  with  indilference. 
I  consider  it  a   decided  objection  to  a  residence  in 
Switzerland,  so  delightful  in  every  other  respect, 
that  the  women  are  almost,  without  exception,  so 
frightful. 

Tile  day  followmg  my  arrival  in  Saumur,  I  dedi- 
cated to  an  excursion  to  the  abbey  of  Fontevrauld, 
the  burial-i)lace  of  our  Henry  11.  and  Richard  1. 
It  lies  five  leagues  from  Saumur.  on  the  limits  of 
Anjou,  towards  Tounune.  The  abbey  is  situated  in 
a  deep  valley  among  rocky  hills  ;  and  is  so  sur- 
rounded by  wood,  that  it  is  scarcely  seen  until  we 
enter  its  precincts.  The  elms  that  shadow  its  soli- 
tary walls  are  particularly  fine.  It  was  in  the 
year  lOIiU  that  this  abbey  was  founded.  Henry 
died  at  Chinoiiy  in  its  vicinity  ;  and  the  holy  reputii- 
tion  of  this  abbey  was  probably  the  cause  why  it 
was  selected  as  his  burial-]»lace  ;  and  Richard,  as  it 
is  said,  from  feelings  of  contrition  on  account  of  his 
filial  disobedience,  requested,  in  his  last  hours,  that 
he  might  br  laid  at  his  father's  feet.  Eleanor,  the 
Nvife  of  one,  and  the  mother  of  the  other  of  these 
princes,  was  buried  in  the  same  tomb  ;  which  is 
farther  honoure<l  by  being  the  sepulchre  of  Jane, 
queen  of  Sicily,  daughter  of  Henry  II.,  and  of  Eli- 
zabeth, the  <iueen  of  John,  of  inglorious  memory. 
Bas-reliefs  of  all  these  great  personages  adorn  tlie 
monument  ;  and  tlie  masses  of  centuries  have, 
doubtless,  long  ago  delivered  their  souls  from  pur- 
gatory. The  abbey  of  Fontevrauhl  has  liad  mi- 
merous  honours  rendered  to  it.  Its  abbesses  have 
been  princesses  ;  and  many  illustrious  personages 
have  inhabited  its  walls.  I  lingered  long  in  the 
precincts  of  this  venerable  spot  ;  the  shade  was  so 


CHAP.  XL.] 


ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 


123 


deep,  the  coolness  so  agreeable,  and  the  silence  and 
solitariness  of  the  place  so  imposing.  I  gathered 
some  sweet-smelling  wall-flower,  and  thought  of 
that  delightful  little  poem — of  Malcolm's,  I  think — 
«  The  Wall-flower,  the  Wall-flower."*  A  rural 
dinner  in  a  neighbouring  village  was  an  agreeable 
variety  ;  and  a  delightful  ride  (for  I  had  hu'ed  a 
horse)  back  to  Saumur,  was  a  pleasant  conclusion 
to  the  day's  excursion.  There  was  nothing  more  to 
detain  me  in  Saumur ;  and  I  left  it  next  morning, 
to  journey  towards  Toure. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 


Journey  to  Tours — Condition  of  the  Peasantrj' — Hints  to 
Travellers— Langears  and  its  Castle— Tours— The  Cathe- 
dral— Promenades — Tours  as  a  Residence — Climate — Pies- 
sis  les  Tours,  and  its  Historic  Recollections. 

It  was  a  morning  of  drenching  rain  when  I  left 
Saumur  ;  but  I  had  sent,  by  a  peasant's  cart,  a 
portmanteau  with  sufficient  change  of  clothing, 
to  Planchouvy  ;  and  I  felt  the  rain  agreeable  rather 
than  otherwise.  With  the  exception  of  the  storm 
I  have  mentioned  at  Angers,  but  which  was  almost 
unaccompanied  by  rain,  the  weather  had  been  con- 
stantly dry  for  several  weeks  ;  and  rain,  in  that  case, 
becomes  a  luxury.  All  that  the  traveller  requires 
to  attend  to,  in  order  that  he  may  preserve  himself 
from  catching  cold,  is  to  carry  his  meals  along  with 
him  ;  to  breakfast  and  dine  as  he  walks  along  ,'  and 
not  to  rest  until  he  reaches  his  haven.  I,  of  course, 
followed  the  advice  I  give.  Bread,  cheese,  fruit, 
and  a  flask  of  wine,  I  carried  along  with  me  j  and 
although  thoroughly  drenched  the  whole  of  the  way, 
I  enjoyed  this  day's  journey  extremely.  The  wea- 
ther was  warm,  and  i)ertectly  calm  ;  and  1  need 
scarcely  say,  that  at  no  time  does  nature  look  more 
lovely  than'  under  the  pattering  of  a  summer  rain. 
The  very  sound  is  pleasing  ;  and  the  brighter  hue 
that  it  throws  upon  the  woods  and  meadows,  may 
well  c<»mpensate  for  the  inconvenience  of  getting 
wet — supposing  this  to  be  felt  an  inconvenience. 
Had  the  weather  been  fair,  I  should  have  stopped 
at  a  little  village  called  Choitssaif  to  breakfast,  about 
four  leagues  from  Saumur  ;  but  this  I,  of  course, 
avoided,  and  breakfasted  from  ray  store,  after  I  had 
walked  out  of  the  village.  I  noticed  some  modern 
chateaux,  or  at  least  maisons  de  plaisance,  in  the 
neighbourhood,  sweetly  situated  among  woods  and 
lawns,  and  little  fertile  hills.  This  is  still  chiefly  a 
wine-country,  at  least  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
river  ;  but  T  saw  that  the  more  distant  slopes  were 
covered  with  corn-fields.  The  wines  of  the  Loire 
are  not,  however,  famous  ;  they  hold  no  rank  among 
the  vhisfns  of  France,  but  are  chiefly  consumed  in 
the  country  and  in  the  neighbouring  cities.  Some 
of  these  wines,  however,  are  very  agreeable  ;  and 
a  stranger,  who  obtains  refreshment  in  the  cottage 
of  a  peasant — the  owner  of  a  vineyard — is  always 
treated  \vith  some  of  the  wine  which  he  makes  for 
his  own  use,  and  which  is  prepared  with  more  care, 
and  from  more  picked  fruit,  than  the  wine  that  is 

•  The  poem  will  be  found  in  one  of  the  early  volumes  of 
the  Literary  Souvenir.  It  is  not  by  Malcolm,  however,  but 
by  D.  M.  Moir,  Esq.,  better  known  as  the  Delta  of  Black- 
wood's Magazine.     Ed.  of  C.  M. 


drunk  in  the  inns.  It  cannot  be  disputed,  however, 
that  the  rin  du  pays  of  Finance,  excepting,  perhaps, 
in  the  provuices  of  Beam  and  Rousfi/lon,  is  bad,  and 
undeserving  of  the  comniendationswhich  the  French 
so  lavishly  bestow  upon  it.  I  do  not  believe,  how- 
ever, that  it  is  unwholesome.  I  have  never,  for  my 
own  part,  found  any  bad  effects  from  the  very  free 
use  of  the  rin  du  pays  of  France — which  I  do  not 
drink  because  I  like  it,  but  because  its  verv  thin- 
ness  and  sourness  render  it  the  more  refreshing  in 
hot  weather. 

1  reached  Planchouvy  in  good  time.  It  hud 
never  cea.sed  raining  the  whole  day,  so  that  I  was 
as  wet  as  ever  ;  and  the  contents  of  my  portman- 
teau were  a  luxury  ;  for  although  it  be  a  luxury  to 
get  wet,  it  is  also  a  luxury  to  put  ofl"  one's  wet 
clothes.  It  has  generally  been  thought,  that  if 
one's  clothes  get  thoroughly  wet,  and  afterwards 
dry  in  walking,  that  cold  is  likely  to  ensue.  I  have 
never  found  this.  1  am  as  subject  to  cold  as  many 
of  my  neighbours  ;  but  although  it  has  happened  to 
me  a  hundred  times  to  be  wet  and  dry  several 
times  in  a  day,  I  do  not  recollect  any  instance  in 
which  cold  has  been  the  result  ;  but  I  believe  it  is 
laid  down  by  the  learned  in  these  matters,  that  one 
constitution  is  no  rule  for  another.  At  this  place 
I  met  two  English  gentlemen,  pedestrians  like  my- 
self, who  were  travelling  down  the  })anks  of  the 
Loire  ;  but  one  was  foot-sore,  and  the  other  had 
twisted  his  ancle,  and  they  were  both  laid  up  in  the 
little  auberge  at  Planchouvy,  oppressed  with  ennirt, 
cursing  pedestrian  journeys,  and  willing  to  give  any 
price  for  a  calech^,  which,  however,  could  not  be 
got.  I  saw  that  tliey  were  travellers  who  could 
not  reap  sufficient  ejijoyment  irom  a  journey  to 
repay  them  for  the  little  inconveniences  to  which 
pedesti'ians  are  subjeet  ;  and  I  advised  them  by  all 
means  to  seud  to  Saumur  for  a  c-cdeche,  and  they 
followed  my  advice.  We  passed  a  ple.isant  even- 
ing together,  and  fared  well.  For  the  aubergiste 
had  a  sucking-pig,  which,  though  rather  an  unusual 
supper  dish,  we  made  no  Iiesitation  in  selecting  ; 
and  having  ourselves  superintended  the  cookery,  it 
proved  so  deUcious,  that  1  thought  of  Ella  as  I 
munched  the  crackling  ;  and  a  most  admirable 
finish  to  this  treat  were  a  couple  of  bottles  of  Vol- 
nay,  which  the  innkeeper  fortunately  possessed.  I 
now  beffan  to  feel  the  vicinity  to  Tours,  in  the  ex- 
pense  of  travelling.  Hei'e  my  lord  Anglais  was 
well  known,  with  all  his  silly  pride  and  ostentation. 
1  had,  of  course,  to  redeem  part  of  the  burden  left 
by  his  former  extravagance.  All  travellei-s  must 
do  this  ;  for  though  the  ti'avelling  English  are  now, 
for  the  most  part,  economical  gentlemen,  who  know 
the  precise  value  of  a  franc,  still  those  old  charges 
are  kept  up,  which  formerly  originated  in  the  silly 
wastefulness  and  absurd  vanity  of  the  English,  who 
flocked  to  the  continent  after  the  war.  The  pig 
deserved  a  high  charge,  and  the  Burgundy  also  ; 
but  a  bed  was  charged  three  francs,  and  a  cup  of 
coffee  a  franc  and  a  half. 

I  left  my  snpjier  companions  in  bed  next  moni- 
mg,  waiting  the  arrival  of  their  ca/t'ch<',  and  took 
the  road  to  Lamjea'is.  The  rain  had  ceased  about 
midnight,  and  the  morning  was  lovely— how  lovely 
after  the  gentle  i-ain,  and  beneath  the  rays  of  the 
new  risen  sun  !  The  scenery  increased  in  beauty 
as  1  passed  up  the  river  ;  or,  perhajts,  it  wjis  the 
brighter  green  of  the  meadows  and  the  vineyards 
that  deceived  me.     As  I  walked  slowly  onward,  a 


124 


ITIXKH  AKY  OF  TilE  LOIRE. 


[chap.  XL. 


countryman  overtook  me.     He  was  pninc:  to  work 
(»n  soniV  <:,.ntleman's  property  alxuit  a  niiie  forsvard, 
and  as  we  walktd  alou^',  I  (questioned  him  as  to  his 
confiition.     He  said   he  did  not  see  how  any  man 
could  bo  happier  than  liimself.     H.-  had  a  wife  and 
three  children,  and   loved   tlieui   ail  ;  and  he  had 
enough  to  ^ive  them.      His  wife,  he  said,  liad  been 
the  h,'lh'  of  the  village,  and  she  made  as  good  a 
v\itV  as  if  sli.'  liad  never  had  an  admirer.     He  was 
employed  in  tiei»l-labour  ev.'ry  day  till  three  o'clock, 
and   received  twenty-tive  ur  thirty  sous,  according 
to  the  species  of  the  labour.     When  he  returned 
home,  he  looked  after  his  own  little  kingdom,  for 
he  possessed  as  much  land  as  supplied  him  with 
bread,  and  sufficed  to  keep  a  cow,  and  a  couple  of 
pigs.      In  fact,  said  he, ''J'ai  tout  ce  qiie  jedmre." 
Ccmtentment  like  this  is  rarely  found  in  England  ; 
hut  the  man   I  have  no  doubt  spoke  as  he  felt. 
[  asked  him  if  he  were  contented  with  the  govern- 
ment :     Ail  governments,  he  said,  were  alike  to 
him,  so  as  they  kept  at  peace,  and  allowed  him  to 
live  at  home. 

It  was  a  very  short  journey  from  I'lanchouvy  to 
Langeais;  but'l  liked  the  appearance  of  the  place, 
and  resolved  to  remain  there  the  remainder  of  the 
day.     Above  all  things  let  a  traveller  avoid,  if  he 
possibly  can,  being  "  hurrietl  for  time,"  to  use  an 
improper,  but  common  expression  ;  it  is  better  to  be 
limited  in  money  than  in  time,  though  it  is  still 
better  to  he  limited  in  neither.     Half  the  pleasure 
of  a  journey  consists  in  taking  it  at  one's  ease,  lin- 
Ljerinu:  where  one  pleases,  stopping  a  day  here  and 
a  day'there,  just  as  fancy  wills  it.     One's  humour 
should  be  the  sole  dictator  on  a  journey.     There 
ought  to  be  no  pleadings  allowed  on  the  part  of 
time  or  money ;  the  former,  at  all  events,  ought  to 
have  no  voice.     How  many  charming  recollections 
would  have  been  lost  to  me,  if  I  had  travelled  with 
a  watch  in  my  hand— if  I  had  not  always  had  it  in 
my  power  to  say,  "  Here  is  a  charming  retreat— 
this  is  an  enclianting  spot — 1  will  remain  here  until 
I  tire  of  it  !" 

Langeais  is  celebrated  for  two  things— its  melons, 
and  its  castle.    Most  of  the  melons  used  in  France— 
all  that  are  used  in  Pai'is — are  grown  here.     But  it 
was  nut  the  melon  season  ;  and  1  had  no  opportu- 
nity, therefore,  of  judging  of  their  merits.     The 
castle  of  Langeais  is  a  tine  object,  and  is  celebrated 
as  tile  place  where  the  nuptials  between  Charles 
VIII.  and  Anne  of  Hretagne  were  performed.    The 
castle  is  in  ruins  ;  but  these  are  yet  noble,  and  show 
its  former  extent.     1  passed  the  greater  i)art  of  the 
eveniuf^  in  its  solitary  ]>recincts,  and  at  sunset  de- 
scended to  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  I  wandered 
till  after  dusk.     The  auberge  was  not  tempting,  for 
I   had  gone  to  an  indifierent  house  by  mistiike  ; 
however,  upon   my  return    !  f';und  an  omelet  and 
some  excellent  trout. 

Langeais  is  only  seven  leagues  from  Tours — a 
pleasant  walk  to  dinner;  and  I  left  the  former  place 
about  my  usual  liour,  and,  passing  through  a  suc- 
ces.Hion  of  delightful  scenery,  1  reached  Tours  about 
two  o'clock. 

Tours  is  well  known  as  one  of  the  favourite  re- 
treats of  our  absents.  >;  and  they  certainly  show 
their  good  taste  in  tlu  spot  they  have  selected.  The 
situation  of  Tours  can  scarcely  find  a  rival.  One 
of  the  most  charming  little  plains  that  imagination 
can  conceive,  surrounds  the  town.  The  river,  l)road 
and  limpid,  sweei)s  past  it  ;  and  the  city  itself  would 


be  agreeable,  even  if  it«  neighbourhood  were  some- 
what less  fertile  in  attractions.  Great  i>art  of  the 
town  is  new  ;  and  the  streets,  several  of  which  are 
sjiacious,  and  the  houses  clean,  substantial,  and 
many  of  them  elegant,  give  to  the  town  an  air  of 
ease,  pleasure,  and  abundance,  which  few  other 
cities  in  France  possess.  The  beauty  of  Tours  has 
arisen  since  the  Revolution,  and  has,  indeed,  sprung 
out  of  it,  for  great  part  of  it  was  rebuilt  upon  an 
improved  plan.  One  of  the  gates  of  the  city  is 
called  Hugoa  Gate,  derived  from  the  name  of  an 
old  count  oi  Tours  named  Hugo ;  and  historians, 
both  De  Thou  and  Darila,  say,  that  the  party  of 
Hugonots  originated  in  Tours,  and  derived  their 
name  from  this  gate,  which  was  a  term  of  reproach  ; 
because  this  old  count  Hugo,  in  the  popular  legends 
of  the  place,  was  represented  as  a  fiend. 

I  of  course  visited  the  cathedral  of  Tours,  which, 
in  the  interior,  is  not  remarkable  for  its  beauty  ; 
and  the  expectations  being  somewhat  excited  by  its 
beautiful  towers,  one  feels  consequent  disa]ipoint- 
ment.  There  is  a  curious  collection  of  manuscripts 
attached  to  the  cathedral,  which,  however,  I  did 
not  see.  I  was  told  it  contains  a  very  ancient  copy 
of  the  Pentateuch  ;  and  also  a  copy  of  the  Evan- 
gelists, not  a  century  later  than  Constantino.  I  also 
visited  the  church  of  St.  Martin,  which  is  large  and 
ugly.  St.  Martin  is  said  to  be  buried  here.  His 
tomb,  at  all  events,  is  shown  ;  and  in  fonner  times 
it  was  the  custom  for  the  kings  of  France  to  put 
up  prayers  beside  this  tomb  before  setting  out  on 
any  perilous  expedition  ;  and  the  cloak  of  the  saint 
was  used  as  a  banner. 

The  promenades  round  Toui-s  are  truly  charming. 
Among  these,  the  Elm  Avenue  is  the  most  conspi- 
cuous,^ and  the  most  shady.    And  here,  on  Sunday, 
all  the  inhabitants  may  be  seen  en  holiday.     The 
quay  is  also  a  pleasant   promenade;   and,  being 
broader  and  larger  than   is  required  for  business, 
there  is  plenty  of  room  upon  it  for  the  lounger. 
Tours  is,  indeed,  scarcely  at  all  a  place  of  com- 
merce ;  but  the  environs  of  the  city  furnish  the 
most  agreeable  walks,  and  these,  too,  are  the  most 
frequented.    Innumerable  little  paths  lead  in  every 
direction  through  the  fields,  and  among  the  knolls 
and  copses.    These  walks  are,  however,  very  unso- 
ciable, for  they  are  only  wide  enough  for  one.    But 
this  was  explained  to  me,  by  a  French  demoiselle, 
to  be  better ;  "  because,"  said  she,  "  if  Monsieur 
who  is  behind  says  a  gallant  thing,  we  may  either 
hear  or  not  as  we  please ;  and  in  case  we  blush, 
nobody  sees  it."     1  confessed  that  the  reasoning 
was  irresistible.     The  neighbourhood  of  Tours  is 
chequered  by  villas  and  monasteries ;  and  among 
the  latter  is  the  well-known  monastery  of  Mar- 
moutier,  from    which   John   duke   of    Burgundy, 
surnamed  Sa)u^  Pear,  carried  off  Isabella,  queen  of 

Bavaria. 

Tours,  fifteen  years  ago,  was  as  cheap  a  residence 
as  any  other  place  on  the  Loire  ;  but  a  gi-eat  ad- 
vance in  the  prices  of  every  thing,  and  particularly 
house-rent,  has  naturally  followed  the  approbation 
of  Toui-s  by  the  English.  Good  villas  are  not  now 
ea.sy  to  be  found— almost  all  those  which  are  the 
most  desirable  being  already  occujjied.  I  was  told, 
that,  imme.liately  after  the  war,  a  large  house,  with 
every  possible  convenience,  and  a  garden  of  two  or 
three  acres,  might  be  had  for  20/.  per  annum.  I 
l)elieve  this  sum  may  now  be  more  than  doubled. 
Provisions  are  still  moderate  in  price  ;  aud  wood  is 


CHAP.  XL.] 


ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 


125 


less  expensive  here  than  in  most  other  parts  of 
France.  There  is  good  society,  both  French  and 
English,  at  Tours.  It  is  one  of  the  places  resorted 
to  by  those  of  the  French  who  are  in  independent 
circumstances,  and  yet  who  cannot  afford  the  ex- 
pense of  a  residence  in  the  metropolis ;  and  the 
number  of  English  now  constantly  residing  in  Tours, 
forms  a  sufficient  circle,  exclusive  of  any  other. 
I  should  certainly  prefer  Tours  to  Lausanne  as  a 
residence,  supposmg  them  to  be  upon  an  equality 
in  expense.  The  climate  of  this  part  of  France  is 
greatly  superior  to  that  of  Switzerland  ;  and  the 
luxuries  which  depend  upon  clunate,  are  therefore 
more  easily  attainable  at  Tours.  The  greater  vici- 
nity also  of  Tours  to  a  great  city,  Paris,  as  well  as 
its  vicinity  to  England,  are  advantages  which  seem 
to  cast  the  balance  in  its  favour. 

Tours  was  fonnerly  much  celebrated  for  its  silk 
manufactories ;  and  as  many  as  three  thousand 
hands  were  employed  in  them.  The  flowered  da- 
masks of  Tours  were  considered  the  most  beautiful 
in  the  world  ;  but  the  manufactories  have  declined  ; 
and  Tours  appeal's,  at  present,  to  be  almost  wholly 
a  city  of  pleasure. 

The  second  day  after  my  arrival  in  Tours,  I 
visited  the  celebrated  castle  of  Plessis  hs  Tours, 
which  lies  about  a  mile  from  the  city.  This 
castle  was  built  by  that  tyrant  Louis  XL,  and  he 
lived  there  the  greater  part  of  his  life ;  and 
there  also  he  died.  Who  is  there  that  does  not 
remember  the  graphic  picture  of  the  death  of 
this  monarch,  presented  to  us  in  the  page  of 
Philip  de  Comines  ?  The  castle  of  Plessis  les  Tours 
is  constructed  of  brick,  but  is  handsome,  notwith- 
standing its  materials  and  its  age  ;  and  looks  ma- 
jestic, suri'ounded  as  it  is  by  embowering  woods. 
The  only  part  of  the  castle  worth  the  notice  of  the 
stranger,  is  the  chapel,  whore  there  is  a  portrait  of 
the  cruel  king,  dressed  in  armour.  The  picture  re- 
presents him  taking  off  his  helmet  with  his  right 
hand,  as  he  is  m  the  act  of  saluting  the  Virgin 
Mary  and  the  infant.  The  painter  has  endeavoured 
to  infuse  into  his  repulsive  countenance  a  look  of 
benignity,  and  a  complacent  smile,  in  which  he  has 
cei-tainly  succeeded ;  but  the  expression  of  the 
execrable  tyi*ant  is  still  to  be  discovered  behind. 
Some  have  supposed,  that,  in  the  figures  of  the  Vir- 
gin and  Child,  it  was  intended  to  represent  liis  queen, 
Charlotte  of  Savoy,  and  his  son,  Charles  the  Eighth  ; 
and  this  sup[)osition  is  favoured  by  the  head  of  the 
female  being  adorned  with  a  diadem,  and  her  habit 
being  regal.  It  is  also  pretended,  that  a  resem- 
blance to  the  king  can  be  discovered  in  the  child. 

There  are  no  pleasing  recollections  awakened  in 
walking  through  the  courts  of  this  castle.  It  was 
the  lair  of  a  wild  beast — the  habitation  of  one  of 
the  most  detestable  of  royal  tyrants.  Still,  it  vividly 
recalls  many  passages  in  history  ;  and  the  record  of 
all  that  has  been  plotted,  said  and  done,  in  this 
pleasui-e-palace  of  a  man  whose  heart  never  knew 
real  pleasure,  rises  before  us,  when  we  feel  ourselves 
within  its  walls. 

I  resolved  to  prolong  my  stay  in  this  neighbour- 
hood two  or  three  days,  that  I  might  visit  the  castle 
of  Loches,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  in  French 
history,  and  which  lies  nearly  nine  leagues  from 
Toura.  I  devoted  two  days  to  this  excui-sion  ;  and 
hired  a  cabriolet,  that  I  might  have  more  time  to 
bestow  ui>on  Loches.  The  country  between  Tours 
and  Loches  I  found  scarcely  inferior  to  that  which 


lies  along  the  Loire  ;  it  is  watered  into  fertility  and 
beauty  by  the  Cher  and  the  Indre,and  by  numerous 
tributary  streams.  Who  was  the  founder  of  tlie 
castle  of  Loches,  or  at  what  precise  epoch  it  was 
built,  are  alike  unknown  ;  but  it  has  evidently  been 
enlarged  at  various  times  subsequent  to  its  erection. 
In  the  days  of  tyranny  and  violence,  the  castle  of 
Loches  was  a  frequent  state-prison  for  persons  of 
the  highest  rank  ;  and  princes,  cardinals,  and  dukes, 
have  inhabited  many  of  its  gloomy  chambei's.  The 
iron  cage  in  which  cardinal  De  hi  Bcdue  was  many 
yeai"S  confined  by  Lous  XI.  is  to  be  seen  in  one  of 
the  apartments.  It  is  not  quite  eleven  feet  squai-e. 
What  happiness  it  is,  that  the  days  have  passed 
utterly  away,  when  monsters  like  Louis  XI.  could 
reign,  and  live  ! 

One  of  the  most  interesting  chambers  in  this 
castle,  is  that  in  which  the  execrable  Ludovico 
Sforza  was  imprisoned  by  Louis  XI.  during  ten  years. 
The  chamber  is  at  least  thirty  feet  long,  vaulted, 
and  contains  one  window,  through  which  the  sun 
shines  every  day  for  some  time  about  noon.  Tra- 
dition says,  that  Sforza  formed  upon  the  opposite 
wall  a  sun-dial,  by  which  he  might  mark  the  hours 
of  captivity.  The  remains  of  this  dial  may  yet  be 
traced.  There  is  a  multitude  of  inscriptions  and 
strange  chai^acters  upon  the  walls  ;  but  these  are 
altogether  illegible. 

I  also  visited  the  vaults  below,  or  dungeons,  called 
Oubliettes,  well  named  for  places  destined  lur  the 
reception  of  those  who  were  to  be  for  ever  forgotten. 
These  dungeons  are  entirely  without  light.  They 
are  hollowed  out  of  the  earth,  and  are  guarded  by 
doors  of  iron.  Even  so  latelv  as  the  vear  17'J0, 
state  prisoners  were  confined  in  the  castle  of  Loches, 
though  not  in  these  dungeons. 

The  principal  church  of  Loches  is  also  worth 
visiting,  for  it  contains  the  monument  of  Agnes 
Soreille,  mistress  of  Charles  VII.  The  bas-relief 
represents  a  very  beautiful  and  delicate  personage  ; 
the  figure  is  symmetrical,  and  the  countenance 
sweet  and  feminine.  She  is  represented  lying  upon 
a  cushion,  simply  attired,  and  two  lambs  lie  at  her 
feet  ;  but  all  this  is  fast  falling  into  decay.  Agnes 
Soreille  was  a  noble-minded  woman  ;  and  many 
traditions  are  yet  to  be  found  expressive  of  her 
charms  and  her  high  character.  I  was  also  con- 
ducted to  La  Tour  de  la  Belle  Agnes,  where  it  is 
said  Charles  used  to  confine  his  mistress  when  he 
went  to  the  chase,  because  he  was  afraid  to  trust 
her  elsewhere.  Agnes  died  in  the  abbey  of  Jumieges 
in  Normandy  ;  but  her  body  was  brought  to  Loches 
at  her  own  express  request. 

It  has  been  said,  that  Ludovico  Sforza  was  in- 
terred in  the  chancel  of  this  church  ;  but  I  believe 
this  is  an  error.  The  figure  of  a  warrior  in  prayer 
has  been  usually  said  to  be  the  portrait  of  Sforza  : 
but  it  is  now  believed  to  be  that  of  the  duke  ol 
d'Epcrnon. 

I  had  now  seen  all  that  was  interesting  in  and 
about  the  very  interesting  city  of  Tours  ;  and  Vu^ 
day  after  returning  from  Loches,  1  left  that  city 
for  Amboise,  a  distance  of  only  twenty  miles.  The 
beauty  of  France  certahily  reposes  upon  Touraine  ; 
and  although  I  have  been  obliged  to  speak  hai-shly, 
though  truly,  of  many  other  jtarts  of  France,  I  am 
willing  to  allow  most  amjile  praise  to  tliis  chaiming 
country.  Here  alone  is  La  Bi  lU  FnntC(X<>  he  found  ; 
and  here  have  been  laid  the  legends  of  the  trouba- 
dours, and  the  fairy  mythology  of  France.  In  no  part 


\2ii 


VnWM  \HV   rfV  Till'   I.olUT^. 


[chap.  xli. 


,,f  !  ranee  is  the  climate  better  than  in  Touraine. 
The  heats  are  not  oppressive,  aivl  tli.y  do  not  con- 
tinue above  six  works  ;  and  ahhou-li  some  days  of 
sharp  frost  occasionally  occur  in  winter,  there  are 
no  foK«  ;  nnd  spring  "  comes  up  that  way"  in  the 
lH>t;innin;^  of  March.  ,  •  i      t 

It  was  a  delichtful  country  tlirou^^h  wlucli  1 
passed  towards  Amboise.  1  ,u;atherod  by  the  way- 
side abundance  of  thyme  and  hivender  ;  and  many 
of  the  slopes  were  covered  with  the  juniper.  3font 
Loim  is  a  strange  villairt^  'I'hc  habitations  of  the 
people  are  excavations  out  of  tlie  chalk-hills  ;  but 
houses  of  a  better  construction  are  beginning  to  be 
erected.  There  would  be  a  sameness  in  the  des- 
scriptions,  were  I  to  detail  mv  journey  to  Amboise, 
wlure  I  arrived  to  an  early  dinner. 

Aniboisi-,  like  all  the  towns  lying  upon  the  Loire, 
is  finely  situated  ;  but  the  town  itself  is  mean,  and 
poorly  "built.  It  has  been  rendered  of  some  conse- 
(luence,  however,  owing  to  the  place  it  holds  in  the 
pa<Te  of  historv,  as  the  W^ene  of  the  protestant  con- 
spiracy in  1500.  The  castle  stands  upon  a  lofty 
rock,  which  dips  perpendicularly  into  the  Loire,  and 
was  fonnerlv  considered  inaccessible.  It  is  of  great 
antniuitv  ;  and  althoutxh  built  prior  to  the  days  of 
Francis'  1.  and  Charles  V  1 1 1 .,  it  was  altered  and 
enlarged  bv  both  of  these  monarchs.  Charles  VIII. 
always  resided  in  this  castle  ;  and  he  was  born 
there,  and  died  there.  There  is  a  place  in  this 
castle  called  the  ()mt(»ry  of  Louis  XL,  the  descent 
to  which  is  Vjy  a  winding  staircase,  leading  below 
the  foundations  of  the  castle.  It  is  said,  that  in 
this  distnal  place  Louis  XL  was  wont  to  perform 
his  devotions— a  tradition  that  is  not  impossible, 
when  we  recollect  the  gloomy  character  of  this  exe- 
crable king.  There  is  nothing  in  this  dungeon  but 
an  image  of  Christ.  . 

Some  remnants  are  still  seen  of  the  cruelties 
practised  by  the  Guises  upon  the  prisoners  who 
came  under  their  power,  at  the  tune  the  conspiracy 
was  discovered.  Iron  hooks,  and  renmants  ot 
chains,  are  attaclied  to  the  walls  ;  and  from  these 
were  suspended  the  bodies  of  the  prisoners. 

I  walked  in  the  evening  to  Chauteh.up,  the  castle 
of  the  «luke  of  Choiseul,  which  is  situated  about 
half  a  league  from  Amlx)ise.  The  site  is  not  ])ar- 
ticularly  '"well  chosen,  and  the  interior  presents 
nothing"  very  remarlcable. 


CHArTER  XLL 

ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 

Journey  to  Hlois— Scenery  of  the  Loire— Chaumont—Blois 

The  Castle,  and  its  Histories— The  Chateau  de  Chani- 

bord— Francis  I.— Journey  to  Orleans— Clery,  and  Louis 
XI.— Orleans— Tlie  Maid  of  Orleans— The  Cathedral- 
Conclusion. 

The  country  between  Amboise  and  Blois  is  generally 
considered  to  be  the  most  cliarming  part  of  the 
country  bordering  upon  the  Loire.  But  I  ani  not 
(.f  this  opinion.  It  is,  perhaps,  the  most  beautiful  ; 
but  it  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  attnictive.  I 
like  better  the  scenery  of  Bretagne  ;  though,  by 
most  persons,  it  is  ju-oliable  that  Touraine  may  be 
preferred.  In  the  scenery  «)f  the  Loire,  between 
Amboise  and  Blois,all  is  soft— beauty  is  its  charac- 
teristic.    There  is  nothing  romantic— nothing  wild. 


The  banks  of  the  river  are  never  bold — scarcely 
elevated.  A  noble  river,  gliding  in  an  ample  smooth 
ctirrent,  flows  through  a  rich  and  highly-cultivated 
and  well-peopled  country.  The  hills  are  smooth 
and  rounded  ;  fine  meadows  lie  along  the  river- 
side ;  copses  are  scattered  over  the  meadows  and 
the  slopes  ;  and  cottages,  villages,  and  villas,  orna- 
ment and  give  life  to  this  gay  and  riante  scene. 
Almost  all  the  land  is  the  property  of  the  peasant 
who  cultivates  it  ;  that  property  is  small,  but  it  is 
enough  for  his  wants. 

I  breakfasted  at  the  village  of  Ecures,  and  then 
continued  my  journey  to  Chousi.  All  this  road  is 
finely  shaded  by  wahmt-trees  ;  and,  besides  the 
usual  crops  of  C(u-n  and  wine,  and  the  meadows  that 
adorn  all  this  country,  nmch  Indian  corn  is  grown 
in  this  part  of  Touraine  ;  and  there  is  no  crop 
more  imposing  than  this — none  more  beautiful  ; 
and,  with  the  corn  and  the  grass,  the  bright  green 
of  the  flax  that  in  little  patches  grew  around  the 
cottages  was  charmingly  blended.  I  was  sorry  to 
see  women  so  much  employed  in  country-labour  ; 
for  this  is  a  sad  destroyer  of  female  beauty.  I 
believe  few  things  have  contributed  more  to  main- 
tain the  reputation  of  the  female  peasantry  of 
England  for  good  looks,  than  their  abstinence  ^'v(^n\ 
field-labour. 

Upon  a  little  promontory  of  land,  about  tvyelve 
miles  before  arriving  at  Blois,  is  the  castle  of  Chau- 
mont.  It  was  built  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century  bv  the  family  of  Amboise,  and  within  it-s 
walls  was' born  the  cardinal  of  that  name,  the  up- 
right minister  of  Louis  XI 1.  This  castle  was  pre- 
sented by  Henry  11.  to  his  mistress,  the  duchess  of 
Valentinois,  and  by  her  it  was  much  improved. 
Upon  the  death  of  her  proti'ctc.r,  the  mistress  of 
the  castle  renounced  it  in  favour  of  Cathi^rine  of 
Medicis,  who,  in  return,  presented  her  with  the 
palace  of  Cheiionceaux-sur-Cher.  1  reached  Blois 
a  little  before  sunset. 

The  city  of  Blois  is,  from  its  historic  recollections, 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  most  interesting 
cities  of  France.  Its  situation  is  striking  and 
beautiful  ;  1  prefer  it  even  to  the  situation  of  Tours. 
It  lies  upon  the  slope  of  an  acclivity  that  ascends 
from  the  river  side.  Upon  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river,  connected  by  a  bridge,  a  handsome 
suburb  is  built  ;  and  the'  views  on  every  hand  are 
of  the  richest  and  most  varied  character.  The  ni- 
side  t.f  the  town  does  not,  however,  correspond  with 
the  impression  made  in  ai)proaching  it.  It  is  ill- 
built  ;  and,  in  comparison  with  Tours,  has  a  mean 
appearance.  Within  the  town  there  are  but  few 
houses  of  a  superior  order. 

It  is  the  castle  of  Blois  that  gives  to  this  city  its 
])eculiar  claim  upon  the  notice  of  the  traveller.  How 
many  events  in  history  start  to  memory  when  we 
enter  the  courts  of  this  castle  !  for  of  how  numy  has 
it  been  the  witness  !  Here  was  born  Louis  the 
Twelfth— Louis  the  Good  ;  here  Margaret  of  Valois 
^^as  married  ;  here  Mary  of  Medicis  was  impri- 
soned ;  here  the  duke  of  Guise  was  assassinated  ; 
and  here  Catherine  of. Medicis  expired.  It  is  ditti- 
cult  to  analyse  or  account  for  the  feelings  of  rever- 
ence witli  which  we  tread  the  court*;  of  such  i)laces 
a.s  the«e.  It  is  certainly  not  a  reverence  for  crowned 
heads  that  engendei-s  the  feeling  with  which  we 
regard  their  ancient  habitations.  It  is  partly  the 
sofemnity  of  anti<iuity,  which,  in  its  even  silent  in- 
terpreters, finds  its  w'ay  to  almost  every  heart  ;  and 


.. 


CHAP.  XLI.] 


ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 


127 


it  is  partly  the  contrast  between  the  decay,  and 
gloom,  and  stillness,  that  now  prevail,  and  the 
"  pomp  and  circumstance"  of  kingly  life,  that  in 
other  days  filled  its  courts,  and  blazed  from  its 
towers.  Vestiges  of  many  monarchs  are  seen  here. 
On  several  parts  of  the  walls  may  be  noticed  the 
«  salamander"  of  Francis  I.— the  "  porcupine"'  of 
Louis  XIL— the  "  crescent"  of  Heni-y  II.  ;  for  all 
these  kings  were  concerned  in  the  erection  and 
adornment  of  the  castle  of  Blois. 

The  original  castle,  of  which  only  the  ruins  of 
one  great   tower   now  remain,   was   built   by  the 
ancient  counts  of  Blois,  who  usually  resided  there. 
The  castle  was  sold  by  the  last  count  of  the  house 
of  Chatillon  to  the  duke  of  Orieans,  brother  of 
Charles  VI.  of  France  ;  and  in  this  way  it  descended 
to  the  luie  of  kings.     The  south  and  east  fronts 
were,  as  it  is  believed,  built  by  Louis  XIL,  while 
the   northeni   front   was   the   work   of  Francis  I. 
These  are  very  diff'erent  in  their  architecture.  The 
former  is  Gothic,  gloomy,  and   dark  ;    the  ktter 
more  light  and  graceful,  apparently  constructed 
when  the  Gothic  was  giving  way  to  a  taste  for  the 
Greek  and  Roman  styles.     It  has  been  remarked, 
and  with  justice,  that  the  style  of  architecture  of 
that  part  of  the  castle  built  by  Louis  XIL  throws 
no  small  light  upon  the  manners  of  that  age,  and 
leads  us  to  form  a  very  unfavourable  idea  of  the 
delicacy   and  refinement  of  the  days  of  doughty 
deeds  and  chivalrous  fecluig.     The  windows  are  in 
many  places  supported  by  the  most  grossly  indecent 
figures  ;  and  these,  standing  in  the  most  exposed 
pfaces  in  the  front  of  the  castle,  not  only  impress 
us  with  a  strong  belief  in  the  want  of  refinement  pre- 
valent in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  but 
also  seem  to  imply  a  strange  contradiction  in  tlie 
character  of  Anne  of  Bretagne,  whose  manners  are 
represented  to  have  been  so  reserved,  and  whose 
morals  were  so  rigid. 

In  the  interior  of  the  castle,  the  same  differences 
in  style  are  perceptible.     Small   dark  rooms  are 
found  in  that  t.art  which  was  erected  by  Louis  XIL  ; 
while,  in   the  part  built  by  Francis  L,  the  apart- 
ments arc  lofty,  light,  and  sjiacious.     One  of  the 
most  renowned'  spots  within  the  castle  to  which  a 
stranger  is  first  conducted,  is  the  chamber  wherein 
the   duke  of  Guise  was  assassinated,  in  the  year 
laHH.      It  was  in   passing  from  the  antechaniber 
into  another  apartment  that  the  duke  met  his  fate. 
Henry  111.,  who  instigated  the  assassination,  is  said 
to  have  entered  the  room  where  the  body  lay,  and 
to  have  exclaimed,  "  How  great  a  man  lies  there  !" 
At  tlie  western  corner  of  the  castle  is  the  tower 
called   the   tower  of  Chateau  Rijuend,  in  which  the 
cardinal  of  Guise,  brother  of  the  duke,  was  impri- 
soned the  same  day  upon  which  the  other  was  assas- 
sinated.     I  visited  the   dungeon  where  this  proud 
and  ambitious  prelate  passed  the  night  previous  to 
his  execution.      It  is  a  gloomy  chamber,  with  one 
small  window  iron-grated  ;    and  in  the  middle  of 
the  apartment  is  a  hoU',  about  the  diameter  of  a 
man's  bodv,  which  leads  to  another  dungeon  ;  and, 
still  lowerj  are  two  other  ranges  of  these  dungeons, 
one  below  the  other,  and  communicating  also  by 
holes.     The  cardinal  was  murdered  in  the  upper- 
most of  these— the  nuirtyr  of  his  wrong-headed 
presumption  and  inordinate  ambition. 

The  SiUe  r//.s-  Etiits  lies  at  the  eastern  extremity 
of  the  building.  Here  the  states-general  were  twice 
a.ssemblcd  during  the  distracted  reign  of  Henry  III. 


It  is  a  spacious  and  lofty  hall,  but  dismantled,  and 
falling  into  decay.  It  is  said,  that  in  this  hall  the 
bodies  of  the  duke  and  the  cardinal  were  burned, 
the  day  following  their  assassmation.  If  this  be 
true,  it  is  difficult  to  assign  a  reason  for  so  unusual 
an  act.  A  fine  saying,  connected  with  these  events, 
is  reported  of  the  mother  of  the  Guises.  She  was 
sent  to  Aniboise  by  Henry,  after  the  nmrder  of  her 
sons ;  and  as  she  embarked  ui)on  the  Loire,she  turned 
towards  the  castle,  and  thus  addressed  the  statue 
of  Louis  XIL,  her  ancestor,  which  stood  before  the 
gate  :  "  Ah  grand  Roi,  avez-vous  fait  batir  ce 
chateau,  pour  y  faire  raourir  les  enfans  de  votre 
petite  fille  !" 

The  western  front  of  the  castle  was  constructed 
by  the  direction  of  Gaston,  duke  of  Orleans,  sun  of 
Henry  IV.,  and  brother  to  Louis  XIII.  It  is  a 
fine  specimen  of  the  genius  of  the  architect,  but 
was  never  completed,  owing  to  the  death  of  his 
patron  ;  and  partly,  also,  because  the  sum  required 
for  its  completion  could  not  be  raised.  It  is  now 
sadly  decayed  ;  and  Gaston,  near  his  last  hour, 
with  reference  to  the  ruin  of  the  ca.stle,  is  reported 
to  have  said,  "  Domus  mea,  doinus  desolationis  in 

seternum  !"' 

Once  the  gardens  of  the  castle  of  Blois  were 
magnificent,  and  of  vast  extent.  Henry  IV.  con- 
structed a  superb  gallery  to  divide  the  up|)er  from 
the  lower  gardens  ;  but  it  is  now  only  visible  in  its 
ruins.  The  avenue  of  Catherine  de  Medicis,  how- 
ever, still  remains. 

I  dedicated  a  day  to  an  excursif.n  to  the  Chateau 
de  Chambord,  the*  favourite  palace  of  Francis  1. 
The   country  between   Blois  and  Chambord  is  re- 
markably })leasing  ;  but,  as  we  approach  the  castle, 
the  scene  changes  and   becomes  sombre  ;    and,  in 
its  inmiediate  neighbourhood,   all    is   melancholy, 
and  even  dismal,  Uttle  in  accordance  with  the  cha- 
racter of  the  gay  and  gallant   Francis.     The  castle 
is  buried  in  deep  woods.     Its  situation  is  low  and 
damp  ;  and  a  lazy  stream,  called  the  Cousson,  dark 
and  sedgy,  slowly  creeps  in   front  of  the  building. 
The  castle  itself  is  noble.     It  is  in  the  Gothic  style, 
but  full  of  elegance,  surmounted  by  many  turrets, 
and  towei-s,  and  minarets,  most  of  which  have  been 
touched  by  the  finger  of  decay  ;  and,  if  placed  in  a 
commanding  situation,  would  be   one  of  the  most 
imi)osing  remains  of  other  days.     It  is  said,  that  in 
the  construction  of  this  edifice,  eighteen  hundred 
workmen  were  employed  during  twelve  years.  When 
we  remark  the  gloomy  character  of  this  building, 
and  call  to  mind  the  character  of  the  royal  builder, 
we  must  not  forget  the  precise  date  at  which  it  was 
erected.     If  Francis  had  built  a  palace  before  the 
battle  of  Favia,  it  would  probably  have  been  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  structure  ;  but  it  was  after  the  cap- 
tivity of  Francis  in  Spain,  that  the  castle  of  Cham- 
bord was  built.     The  chivalrous  kmg  was  then  an 
altered  man  ;  and,  independently  of  his  own  mis- 
fortunes and  long  imprisonment,  the  character  of 
all  that  he  had  seen  in  Spain  had  doubtless  com- 
municated to  his  mind  a  tinge  of  sadness  and  gloom, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  the  presiding  deities  in 
the  erection  of  CTiambord. 

A  curious  staircase  leads  to  the  upper  apart- 
ments. It  is  so  contrived  that  persons  may  pass 
up  and  down  at  the  same  time,  without  either  meet- 
in''  or  seeing  each  other.  The  interior  of  the  castle 
hiS  much  of  magnificence  in  it.  There  are  some 
fine  ceilings  ;   and  all  is  in  excellent  proportion, 


128 


ITINERARY  oF  TIIK  LOIRE. 


[chap.  xli. 


espeeiallv  thost'   apartments   which   xwtv  the  resi- 
deiUT  n{  marsha!   Sax-,  who   Hv.mI  a  t^nvat   jiart  of 
his  lift'  and  .litMl  in  ilu>  ca-^t'h-.      He  is  said  to  liavc 
resided    here    in    great    sfU-ndour  ;    and    t-.    have 
maintained  a  body  of  lo(K)  hoi-se.     Every  <me  who 
Nisits  Chamyxjrd  is  shown  the  eross-heanis  tliat  <hs- 
ti«nire  nianv  nf  the  rooms,  and  is  int'onued  that  they 
wet-e  so  i.hieed  by  threetion  of  Catherine  of  Medicis, 
who  had  !)een  told  by  an  a^tiulo^er,  that  her  death 
would  be  occasioned   hx  ihe  fall  of  a  house,  and 
who  thus  endeavoured  to  disapp..int  the  prediction  ; 
but  nothing  is  nion-  eonunon  than  cross-beams  m 
Gothic  n)oms;  and  therefore,  in  all  probability, 
the  story  is  but  a  story.     It  is  said  m  old  books, 
that  two  lines  of  poetry,  the  production  of  F  rancis, 
are  written  with  a  diamond,  upon  a  small  glass 
window  in  a  closet  near  the  chapel  ;  but  they  are 
not  now  to  be  seen.     The  lines  were  said  to  have 
been — 

♦'  Toute  femme  varie 
Mai  habil  qui  s'y  fie  !  "— 

An  expression  of  pique,  no  doubt  arising  from  the 
caprice  of  his  mistress.  So  that  window-panes  are 
scribbled  by  the  hands  of  kings,  as  well  as  by  those 
of  London  apprentices.  ,     ,       t^ 

It  was  in  this  castle  of  Chambord,  that  Irancis 
entertained    his  designing  and   treacherous    rival 
Charles  V.  in   1540,  with  all  that  liberality  and 
nia-niiticence  which  accorded  with  the  cliaracter  of 
the"French  monarch.     The  device  of  Francis, « the 
sjilamander,"  is  to  be  discovered  in  many  parts  of 
the  building.     Chambord  has  been  going  mto  decay 
ever  since  the  death  of  marshal   Saxe.     Several 
times  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  that  monarch 
visited  it,  and  enjoyed  the  divei-sion  of  hunting  m 
its  neighbourhood  ;  but  none  of  his  royal  succesnors 
have  followed  his  example  ;  most  of  them  have  been 
wo.-s..  eiH]doved.     I  spent  the  gi'eater  part  of  the 
(lav  in  fh.    I  iecincts  of  this  gloomy  but  magnificent 
structuiv      •'  C'est  un  endre.it  bien  triste,"  said  the 
man  Nvim  ualked  over  the  castle  with  me  ;  and  the 
solemn  expression  of  hi>  i  u  •  showed  that  he  had 
caught  the  infection  of  the  place.      One  is  more 
inclined  to  litur-r  in  the  precincts  of  a  sad  than  of 
a  <,'av  spot  ;  and  it  was  almost  dusk  before  I  could 
leave   (  hanihoid   to   return  to    lilois.      1   shall  not 
speedily  for-ret  the  daN   1  -\"  nf  at  Chambord. 

After  such  obiects  as  tlu'  ea^tle  <.f  Blois  and 
Chambord,  the  traveller  looks  with  eoinparatively 
little  interest  upon  the  lesser  obji'Cts  wiiich  Blois 
contains.  Thev  ought  not,  however,  to  be  i)a8sed 
ovi  r  •  and  in  order  to  admire  them,  it  is  only  ne- 
erssarv  to  visit  them  first.  There  is  a  college,  a 
ehurch  and  two  lini>  moimmeiits  ;  one  commemora- 
thi.r  (Jaston,  duke  of  Orleans  ;  the  other,  a  daugh- 
ter"of  that  prince.  There  is  a  building,  used  as  a 
court  of  justice,  as  old  as  the  ancient  counts  of 
Blois  ;  and  there  is  an  aqueduct,  said  of  couree  to 
be  a  work  of  the  Romans.  ,     •     j    v 

Blois  and  its  neighbourhood  are  colonized  by 
English,  as  well  as  Tours.  In  expenses,  1  belu^e 
Bl(^s  has  rather  the  advantage  ;  m  society,  it  is  in- 
ferior to  Tours  ;  and  that  is  just  the  rea.son  why  it 
is  'somewhat  cheaper  as  a  residence.  The  en- 
,  auns  of  Blois  are  as  attractive  as  the  neighlx.ur- 
hood  of  Toui-s  ;  and  Blois  has  the  advantage  ot 
being  a  day's  jounuy  nearer  Paris.  1  leit  Blois 
to  ioiirney'to  Orleans,  the  morning  after  my  return 
to  Chambord. 


The  couutrv  botwoon  Blois  and  Orleaus  i.s  of  the   ^ 
same  character  as  that  hlng  between  Amboise  and 
Blois.      Beauty  and  softness  are  its  characteristics, 
and  these   are*  never  wanting.       I  think,  however, 
that  the  eouiitrv  of  the  Loire   is  more  interesting, 
from     the    histone    recollections    with     which     it 
abounds,  and  from  those  records  of  past  days,  that 
so  freshlv  recall  these  recollections,  than  from  the 
charm  of  the  scenery.     1  know  that,  upon  matters 
of  this  kind,  men's  opinions  differ  according  to  the 
comi)lexion  of  their  minds  ;  and  no  man,  in  speak- 
ing of  the  merits  of  a  landscape,  can  do  more  than 
record  the  impression  which  it  has  made  upon  his 
own  mind.     I  prefer  the  sconery  of  several  rivers 
to  the  scenerv  of  the  Loire.    The  Rhine,  the  Rhone, 
and  the  Danube  all  excel  it,  and  the  Meuse  greatly 
surpasses  it.     I  know  of  nothing  ui)on   the  Loire 
that  will  bear  the  least  comparison  with  the  views 
in  descending  the  Meuse  from  Namur  to  Liege. 

At  Beaugencv,  where  there  is  a  bridge  across 
the  Loire,  lies  the  seat  of  the  renowned  Madame 
de  Pompadour.  I  spent  an  hour  or  two  in  ramb- 
ling there,  and  enjoyed  much  the  dcHghtful  pros- 
pect that  the  heights  above  the  river  commanded. 
It  is  as  rich  and  varied  a  laiulscape  as  I  ever  re- 
collect to  have  seen.  Madame  de  Pompadour 
left  this  charming  place  to  her  brother,  the  mar- 
quis de  Marignv,  who  much  improved  and  greatly 
beautified  it;  and  Louis  XV.  was  liberal  in  his 
presents  of  statues  to  adorn  the  grounds.  I  have 
seen  no  nuiison  de  plaisance  whose  site  I  prefer  to 

this.  . 

I  spent  two  days  upon  the  road  from  Blois  to 
Orleans.      This  was  not  necessary  on  account  of 
the  distance,  but  1  wished  to  devote  a  little  time 
to    Clerv,  where  Louis   XI.   was   interred.       The 
church  of  Notre  Dame  de  Clery  was  built  by  Louis 
XL,  who  dedicated  it  to  the  Vh'giii  Mary,  who  was 
always  the  object  of  this  wicked  king's  devotion  ; 
and  from   the  same  feeling  of  devotion,  he  desired 
that  his  body  should  be  interred  in  a  tomb  in  that 
church  erected  by  his  own  orders.      During  the 
wars  of  the  Hugonots,  his  tomb  was  broken  open, 
and  his  bones  scattered  ;  but  Louis  XIII.  erected 
the  present  monument  in   1622.      It  is  of   white 
marble ;  and  the  king  is  represented  in  bas-relief 
kneeling,  and  in  the  attitude  of  prayer.     The  nio- 
nument  has  been  considerably  defaced,  as  might 
be   expected,   from   the   hatred  which   must  ever 
pursue  the  memory  of  this  detestable  tyrant.    The 
heart  of  Charles  VIII.  is  preserved  in  the  same 

tomb. 

Clery  has  lost  its  character  for  sanctity,  b  or- 
merly,  it  attracted  the  feet  of  numerous  pilgrims  ; 
for  Notre  Dame  de  Clery  was  paiticularly  celebrated 
for  the  protection  which  she  afiorded  to  travellers 
by  land  and  sea.  Any  one  who  found  himself  in 
danger,  had  only  to  v<iw  a  j-ilgriinage  to  Clery. 
Immediately,  though  a  thousand  miles  distant,  the 
bell  at  Clery  tolled  of  its  own  accord,  signifying 
that  the  vow  was  accei)ted  ;  and  by-and-by,  the 
pilgrim  appeared  to  pay  his  adorations. 

1  remained  at  Clery  all  night  ;  and  next  morn- 
ing walked  to  Orleans,  where  I  arrived  early. 

'brleans  is  a  large,  but  not  a  beautiful  city  ;  and 
its  environs,  though  rich  and  highly-cultivated,  are 
less  agreeable  than  the  country  around  Toui-s  or 
Blois.  The  city  itself  contains  few  good  streets  ; 
but  there  is  one,  spacious  and  elegant,  terminating 
in  a  noble  bridge.     The  great  s(iuare  is  also  mag- 


^' 


(  HAI'.    XI, I.] 


ITINERARY  OF  THE  LOIRE. 


129 


niticent.      In  tlie  ]trinei'|ial  street, stands  the  monu- 
ment (»f  tlie  Maid  of  Orleans,  whose  history  is  too 
well  known  to  render  any  explanation  necessary. 
The  monument  represents  our   Saviour   lying   on 
the  lap  of  the  Virgin  ;  and   Charles  VII.  and  the 
Maid   of   Orleans   are    kneeling   before  the  body. 
Tlie   king's  helmet  lies    on   the  ground  ;  and  the 
maid   and  the  monarch   kneel    opposite  to   each 
other.      This    monument   was   erected    by    com- 
mand of  Charles  VII.,  in  commemoration  of  his 
victories  over  the  English,  and  of  their  expulsion 
from  France.    The  figures  in  this  monument  are  in 
iron.     No  one  can  visit   Orleans  without  looking 
with  interest  upon  this  relic.     The  figure  of  the 
Maid  of  Orleans  strongly  resembles  her  portrait, 
which  is  preserved  in  the  hotel  de  Ville.  It  is  a  full- 
length  portrait,  and  represents  a  countenance  of 
much  beauty  ;  and  in  which  also  dignity  and  me- 
lancholy are  blended.     Her  head  is  covered  with  a 
bonnet,  from  which  a  white  i)lume  depends  ;  and 
her  hair  falls  over  her  neck.     There  is  also  a  neck- 
lace, a  sort  of  chain,  upon  her  breast  :  an  embroi- 
dered girdle  encircles  her  waist,  and  she  holds  a 
sword  in  her  hand.     The  memory  of  the  Maid  of 
Orleans  is  cherished  w  ith  great  veneration  by  the 
French  ;  and  this  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at.  It 
was  a  critical  juncture  in  which  she  appeared.    She 
was  young,  beautiful,  and  unknown — her  exertions 
were  successful— and  her  sentence  was  unjust  and 
barbarous.   In  all  this  there  was  a  tinge  of  the  mar- 
vellous ;  and  we  cannot  therefore  feel  surprise,  that 
relics  and  mementos  of  this  extraordinary  woman 
should  be  preserved  in  that  city  \^]lere  her  enter- 
prise was  projected. 

The  cathedral  of  Orleans  is  a  fine  structure  ; 
it  was  begun  in  the  year  1287,  but  it  was  three 
centuries  later  before  it  was  finished.  Part  of  it 
was  subsequently  destroyed  by  the  Hugonots  ;  but 
it  was  rebuilt  by  command  of  Henry  IV.  There  is 
some  good  workmanship  upon  the  altars  and  panels, 
which  are  of  oak,  from  the  hand  of  Daptiste  Tubi, 
an  Italian  master.  Louis  XV.  built  the  two  western 
towers,  which  are  in  the  most  gorgeous  taste.  I 
ascended  to  the  summit,  and  found  myself  w  ell  re- 
paid for  the  labour  of  the  ascent.  The  Orleannais 
is  a  beautiful  country  to  look  down  up<»n  ;  but  it  is 
too  level  to  possess  the  same  interest  lo  the  tra- 


veller  who  journeys  tlirough    it,  as  Bretagne  or 
Touraine. 

La  Source,  a  villa  at  no  great  distance  from  Or- 
leans, is  interesting  to  Englishmen,  as  having  been 
once  the  residence  of  Henry  St.  John,  lord  Boling- 
brokcjwho  here  lived  hi  retirement  during  the  greater 
|)art  of  his  exile.  The  spot  has  received  its  name 
from  a  little  hollow,  in  which  a  fine  fountain  gushes 
out  of  the  earth.  The  character  of  the  place.  I 
believe,  has  been  greatly  altered  since  it  was  the 
abode  of  lord  Bolingbroke.  French  taste  has  given 
to  it  an  apprke  air ;  and  pert  improvements  have 
destroyed  the  sanctity  of  the  spot. 

I  conclude  this  short  sketch  of  the  ci.uiitry  bor- 
dering upon  the  Loire,  with  this  ad%  ice,  that  no 
English  tourist  shall  leave  Paris  without  taking  his 
seat  in  the  coupe  or  the  Ixinqmtte  of  the  diligence 
for  Orleans  ;  and,  travelling  down  the  bank  of  the 
Loire  as  far  as  Nantes,  either  en  c^aleche,  a  ciwml,  or 
a  pied,  as  his  strength  or  his  fancy  may  suggest. 
From  Nantes,  he  may  reach  St.  Male  in  two  days  ; 
and  in  three  days  more  he  may  be  in  Portsmouth, 
having  seen    Jersey  and    Guernsey  by  the    way. 
This  is  better  than  y)hiing  tlie  colony  at  Tours.     I 
have  travelled  some  little  in  my  day  ;  and  I  never 
yet  saw  the  place  over-seas  where  I  could  say,  here 
I  will  live  and  die.     My  steps  have  been  arrested 
by  beautiful  spots — by  savage  spots— by  great  and 
luxurious  cities  ;— a  week,  a  month,  I  could  spend 
in  many — a  year  in  some,  and  spend  it  happily  ;  but 
not  life— not  all  my  days.     This  may  be  prejudice  ; 
I  believe  it  is  ;  but  it  is  the  only  prejudice   I  have 
no  wish  to  part   with.      I  know  of  no  pleasure  that 
will  compare  with  going  abroad,  excepting  one — 
returning  home.    I  pity  English  colonists  wherever 
I  find  them — whether  at  Tours,  or  Pau,  or  Lau- 
sanne, or  Brussels,  or  Nice,  or  Florence.     They  all 
talk  of  the  delightful  climate,  and  delicious  wines, 
and  cheap  living,  and  excellent  society  ;  and  yet  I 
beheve  there  maybe  but  two  or  one  among  them  all 
whose  words  come  from  the  heart — but  two  or  one 
among  them  all,  wlio,  if  they  dared  to  aj^pear  poor, 
would  not  turn  their  backs  upon  the  climate,  and 
wines,  and  society  of  foreign  lands,  and  seek  the 
shores  of  England.     Travelling  is  a  charming  re- 
creation ;  but^  after  all,  England— -to  an  English- 
man— is  the  only  country  to  live  in. 


LI 


I 


AF  i*  i:  ^'  1>  !  \ 


APPENDIX. 


i;^ 


I 


i<\U\ 

^  ^  '"t  It         THE  SLIDE  OF  ALPNACH. 


^ 

The  following  description  of  this  extraordinary  un- 
dertaking is  tVni  tl..    pen  of  tlie    late  professor 

Pla\  fair  :  • ,       ,  i 

"'oii  the  south  side  of  Pilatus,  a  considerable 
mountain  near  Lucerne,  are  great  forests  of  8i)ruce- 
fir,  consisting  of  the  finest  timber,  but  in  a  situation  j 
which  the  height,  the  steepness,  and  the  ruggedness 
of  the  ground,  seemed  to  render  inaccessible.  They 
liad  rarely  been  visited  but  by  the  chamois-hunters  ; 
and  it  x\as  ti    in  t'li, m,  in  leed,  that  the  first  infoi-ma- 
tion  concerning  the  size  of  the  trees  and  the  extent 
of  tlir  forest  aj»p(ars  to  have  been  received.    These 
woods  an-   in  tlu    Canton  of  Unterwalden,  one  of 
those  in  which  the  ancient  spirit  of  the  Swiss  re- 
I  ublics  is  the  best  preserved  ;  where  the  manners 
are  exf  i-  rti-ly  simple,  the  occupations  of  the  people 
mo'^tU    ih  -*•  of  agriculture  ;  where  there  are  no 
niuuukK  lurcs,   little   accumulation  of  capital,  and 
no  commercial  entei-prise.       In  the  possession  of 
such  masters,  the  lofty  firs  of  Pilatus  were  likely 
to  remain  long  the  ornaments  of  their  native  moun- 
tain. 

«  A  few  years  ago,  liowever,  Mr.  Hupp,  a  native 
of  Wirtemberg,  and  a  skilful  engineer,  in  which 
profession  he  had  been  educated,  indignant  at  the 
political  changes  effected  in  his  own  country,  was 
induced  to  take  refuge  among  a  free  people,  and 
came  to  settle  in  the  Canton  of  Schwytz,  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  lake  of  Lucerne.     The  accounts 
which  he  heard  there  of  the  forest  just  mentioned 
determined  him  to  visit  it  ;  and  he  was  so  much 
struck  by  its  aii.  arance,  that,  long  and  rugged  as 
the  descent  was,  he  conceived  the  bold  project  of 
bringing  down   the  trees,  by  no  other  force  than 
th(iro\vn  w(  ight,  into  the   lake  of  Lucerne,  from 
which  the  conveyance  to  the  German  Ocean  was 
easy  and  expeditious.     A  more  accurate  survey  of 
the  ground  convinced  him  of  the  practicability  of 
the  project. 

"He   had,  by  tin-  nm.  ,  resided   Icmg  enough   in 
Switzerland,  to  !i.i\  ■■  both  his  talents  and  integrity 
in  such  estimation,  that  he  was  able  to  prevail  on  a 
inunlH  r  nf  tin    proprietors  to  form  a  company,  with 
a  loiii!  -.!<•'*,  !  >  be  laid  out  hi  the  purchase  of  the 
fonsf.  a!i  i   in   the  construction  of  the  road  along 
which  it  ^\:i^   iiu*  u.'s!   1    iliat  the  trees  should  slide 
duu  II  mt..  the  lake  ot    Lucerne  ;  an  arm  or  gulf  of 
wliu  h    tMrtunately    approaches    quite   near   to    the 
bottom  ut   the  iiiouutain.     The  sum  required  for 
this  purpose  was  very  considerable  for  that  country, 
am  Mustiiiu  to  :>,00«)/,  or  Kl.OOO/.  ;  3,000/.  to  be  laid 
out  on  tlh   purc!ia>e  ..t  th^    forest,  from  the  commu- 
nity ut  Alpnaeh,  th*^  proprietors  of  it,  and  the  rest 
IxMug  nec«  >sar\  for  the  construction  of  the  singular 
r ; n  1  w :  1  \  i .  *  u  1  n .  •  h  I  h  e  trees  were  to  be  brough t  down . 
hiaeouuiry  where  there   is  little  enter])rise,  few 
.apitaiists,  and  where   he    was  ]Mni-..ir  a  stranger, 
I    thi>  \s as  !i..i  liie  least  ditiicult  i'ail   ui    Mr.    iaipp's 
I    uuileilaking. 


«  The  distance  which  the  trees  had  to  be  conveyed 
is  about  three  of  the  leagues  of  that  country,  or, 
more  exactly,  46,000  feet.  The  medium  height  of 
the  forest  is  about  2500  feet  (which  measure  I 
took  from  general  Plyffer's  model  of  the  Alps,  and 
not  from  any  actual  measurement  of  my  own).  The 
horizontal  distance  just  mentioned,  when  reduced 
to  English  measure,  making  allowance  for  the  Swiss 
foot,  is  44,262  feet— eight  English  miles  and  about 
three  furlongs.  The  declivity  is  therefore  one  foot 
in  17-68  ;  the  medium  angle  of  elevation  3"   14' 

20'. 

"  This  declivity,  though  so  moderate  on  the 
whole,  is,  in  many  places,  very  rapid.  At  the  be- 
ginning the  inclination  is  about  one-fourth  of  a  right 
angle,  or  about  22°  30'  ;  in  many  places  it  is  20°, 
but  nowhere  greater  than  the  angle  fii-st  mentioned, 
22°  30'.  The  inclination  continues  of  this  quantity 
for  about  500  feet,  after  \\  hicli  the  way  is  less  steep, 
and  often  considerably  circuitous,  according  to  the 
directions  which  the  ruggedness  of  the  ground  forces 
it  to  take. 

"  Along  this  line  the  trees  descend  in  a  sort  of 
trough  built  in  a  cradle  form,  and  extending  from  the 
forest  to  the  edge  of  the  lake.    Three  trees  8(iuared, 
and  laid  side  by  side,  form  the  bottom  of  the  trough  ; 
the  tree  in  the  middle  having  its  suH'ace  hollowed, 
so  that  a  rill  of  water,  received  from  distance  to 
distance  over  the  side  of  the  trough,  may  be  con- 
veyed along  the  bottom,  and   preserve   it   moist. 
Adjouiing  to  the  central  part  (of  the  trough),  other 
trees,  also  squared,  are  laid  parallel  to  the  former, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  form  a  trough  rounded  in 
the  interior,  and  of  such  dimensions  as  to  allow  the 
largest  trees  to  he  or  to  move  quite  readily.    When 
the  direction  of  the  trough  turns,  or  has  any  bend- 
ing, of  which  there  are  many,  its  sides  are  made 
higher  and  stronger,  especially  on  the  convex  side, 
or  that  from  w  Inch  it  bends,  so  as  to  provide  against 
the  trees  bolting  or  flying  out,  which  they  some- 
times do  in  spite  of  every  precaution.     In  general, 
the  trough  is  from  five  to  six  feet  wide  at  top,  and 
fi'om  three  to  four  in  depth  ;  varymg,  however,  in 
different  places,  according  to  circumstances. 

"  This  singular  road  has  been  constructed  at 
considerable  expense  ;  though,  as  it  goes  almost  for 
its  whole  length  through  a  forest,  the  materials  of 
construction  were  at  hand,  and  of  small  value.  It 
contains,  we  are  told,  30,000  trees  ;  it  is,  in  general, 
supported  on  cross-timbers,  that  are  themselves 
supported  by  uprights  fixed  in  the  ground  ;  and 
these  cross-timbei-s  are  st.inetimes  close  to  the  sur- 
face :  they  are  occasionally  under  it,  and  sometimes 
elevated  to  a  great  height  above  it.  It  crosses  in 
its  way  three  great  nwines  :  one  at  the  height  of 
64  feet,  another  at  the  height  of  103,  and  the  third, 
where  it  goes  along  the  face  of  a  rock,  at  that  of 
157,  In  two  places  it  is  conveyed  under  ground. 
It  was  finished  in  1812. 


"  The  trees  which  descend  by  this  conveyance  are 
spruce-firs,  very  straight,  and  of  great  size.  All 
their  branches  are  lopped  off  ;  they  are  stripped  of 
the  bark  ;  and  the  surface,  of  course,  made  to- 
lerably smooth.  The  trees  or  logs,  of  which  the 
trough  is  built,  are  dressed  with  the  axe,  but  with- 
out much  care. 

"  All  being  thus  prepared,  the  tree  is  launched 
with  the  root  end  foremost  into  the  steep  part  of 
the  trough,  and  in  a  few  seconds  acquires  such  a 
velocity  as  enables  it  to  reach  the  lake  in  the  short 
space  of  six  minutes  ;  a  result  altogether  astonish- 
ing, when  it  is  considered  that  the  distance  is  more 
than  eight  miles,  that  the  average  declivity  is  but 
one  foot  in  seventeen,  and  that  the  route  which  the 
trees  have  to  follow  is  often  circuitous,  and  in  some 
places  almost  horizontal. 

«  Where  large  bodies  are  moved  with  such  velo- 
city as  has  now  been  described,  and  so  tremendous 
a  force  of  course  produced,  every  thing  had  need 
to  be  done  with  the  utmost  regularity,  every  obsta- 
cle carefully  removed  that  can  obstruct  the  motion, 
or  that  might  suffer  by  so  fearful  a  collision.  Every 
thing,  accordingly,  with  regard  to  launching  off  the 
trees,  is  directed  by  telegraphic  signals.    All  along 
the  slide  men  are  "^stationed  at  different  distances, 
fi-om  half  a  mile  to  three-quarters,  or  more  ;  but 
so  that  every  station  may  be  seen  from  the  next, 
both  above  and  below.     At  each  of  these  stations, 
also,  is  a  telegraph,  consisting  of  a  large  board  like 
a  door,  that  turns  at  its  middle  on  a  horizontal  axle. 
When  the  board  is  placed  upright,  it  is  seen  from 
the  two  adjacent  stations  ;  when  it  is  turned  hori- 
zontally, or  rather  parallel  to  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  it  is  invisible  from  both.     When  the  tree 
is  launched  from  the  top,  a  signal  is  made  by  turn- 
ing the  board  upright  ;  the  same  is  followed  by  the 
rest  ;  and  thus  the  information  is  conveyed,  almost 
instantaneously,  all  along  the  slide,  that  a  tree  is 
now  on  its  wav.      By-and-by,  to  any  one  that  is 
stationed  on  the  side,  even  to  those  at  a  great  dis- 
tance, the  same  is  announced  by  the  roaring  of  the 
tree    itself,   which    becomes    always    louder    and 
louder  ;  the  tree  comes  in  sight,  when  it  is  perhaps 
half  a  mile  distant,  and,  in  an  instant  after,  shoots 
past  with  the  noise  of  thunder  and  the  rapidity  of 
lightning.      As  soon  as  it  has  reached  the  bottom, 
the   lowest  telegraph  is  turned   down,  the  signal 
passes  along  all  the  station,  and  the  workmen  at 
the  top  are  informed  that  the  tree  has  annved  in 
safetv.    Another  is  set  off  as  expeditiously  as  possi- 
ble :'the  moment  is  announced  as  before  ;  and  the 


same  process  is  repeated,  till  the  trees  that  have 
been  got  in  readiness  for  that  day  have  been  sent 
down  into  the  lake.  , 

«  When  a  tree  sticks  by  accident,  or  when  it  flies 
out,  a  signal  is  made  from  the  nearest  station,  by 
half  depressing  the  board,  and  the  workmen  from 
above  and  below  come  to  assist  in  getting  out  the 
tree  that  has  stuck,  or  correcthig  any  thing  that  is 
wrong  in  the  slide  from  the  spruiging  of  a  beam  m 
the  slide  ;  and  thus  the  inten-uption  to  the  work  is 
rendered  as  short  as  possible. 

"  We  saw  five  trees  come  down.  The  place 
where  we  stood  was  near  the  lower  end,  and  the 
declivity  was   inconsiderable    (the  bottom  of  the 


slide  nearly  resting  on  the  surface),  yet  the  trees 
passed  with  astonishing  rapidity.     The  greatest  of 
them  was  a  spruce-fir  100  feet  long,  four  feet  m 
diameter  at  the  lower  end,  and  one  at  the  "PPer. 
The  greatest  trees  are  those  that  descend  with  the 
gi-eatest  rapidity  ;  and  the  velocity,  as  well  as  the 
roarmg  of  this  one,  was  evidently  greater  than  the 
rest.     A  tree  must  be  very  large  to  descend  at  all 
in  this  manner.      A  tree,  Mr.  Hupp  mformed  us, 
that  was  only  half  the  dimensions  of  the  precedmg, 
and  therefore  only  an  eighth  part  of  its  weight, 
would  not  be  able  to  make  its  way  from  the  top  to 
the  bottom.     One  of  the  trees  that  we  saw,  broke 
by  some  accident  into  two  ;  the  lighter  part  stopped 
almost  immediately,  and  the  remaining  part  eanie 
to  rest  soon  after.      This  is  a  valuable  iact  :  it  ap- 
pears from  it,  that  the  friction  is  not  in  proportion 
to  the  weight,  but  becomes  relatively  less  as  the 
weight  increases,  contrary  to  the  opinion  that  is 
generally  received. 

"In  viewing  the  descent  of  the  trees,  my  ne- 
phew and  I  stood  quite  close  to  the  edge  of  the 
trough,  not  being  more  interested  about  any  thuig 
thaif  to  experience  the  impression  which  the  n«  as 
view  of  so  singular  an  object  must  make  on  a  spec- 
tator.    The  noise,  the  rapidity  of  the  motion,  the 
magnitude  of  the  moving  body,  and  the  force  with 
which  it  seemed  to  shake  the  trough  as  it  passed, 
were  altogether  very  formidable,  and  conveyed  an 
idea  of  danger  much  greater  than  the  reality.    Our 
guide  refused  to  partake  of  our  amusement  ;  he 
retreated  behind  a  tree  at  some  distance,  where 
he  had  the  consolation  to  be  assured  by  Mr.  Rupp, 
that  he  was  no  safer  than  we  were,  as  a  tree,  when 
it  happened  to  bolt  from  the  trough,  would  often 
cut  the   standing  trees  clear   over.      During   the 
whole  time  the  slide  has  existed,  there  have  been 
three  or  four  fatal  accidents  ;  and  one  instance  was 
the  consequence  of  excessive  temerity. 

«  I  have  mentioned,  that  a  provision  was  made 
for  keepmg  the  bottom  of  the  trough  wet.  This  is 
a  very  useful  precaution  ;  the  friction  is  greatly 
diminished,  and  the  swiftness  is  greatly  increased 
by  that  means.  In  rainy  weather,  the  trees  move 
much  faster  than  in  dry.  We  were  assured,  that 
when  the  trough  was  evei^where  in  its  most  per- 
fect condition,  the  weather  wet,  and  the  trees  very 
large,  the  descent  was  sometimes  made  in  as  short 
a  tune  as  three  minutes. 

"  The  trees  thus  brought  down  into  the  lake  ol 
Lucerne,  are  formed  into  rafts,  and  floated  down 
the  very  rapid  stream  of  the  Reuss,  by  which  the 
lake  discharges  its  water— first  into  the  Aar,  and 
then  into  the  Rhine.  By  this  conveyance,  vn  huh  is 
all  of  it  in  streams  of  great  rapidity,  the  trees  some- 
times reach  Basil  in  a  few  days  after  they  have  lett 
Lucerne  ;  and  there  the  intermediate  concern  of 
the  Alpnaeh  company  terminated.  They  still  con- 
tinue to  be  navigated  down  the  Rhine  m  rafts  to 
Holland,  and  are  afloat  in  the  German  Ocean  m 
less  than  a  month  from  having  descended  from  the 
side  of  Pilatus,  a  verv  inland  mountain,  not  less 
than  a  thousand  miles'distant.  The  late  emperor 
of  France  had  made  a  contract  for  all  the  timber 
thus  brought  do\yn:'— Professor  Pl<in/air  s  W -rky, 
Vol.  7.,  Edinburqh,  1822. 


THE    END. 


Gilbert  &  Rivingtok,  Printers,  St.  Johu's  Square,  London. 


JL>T   f'UBLlSHrJ),  UNIFORM   WITB  THE  PRESENT  WORK, 

KOCH'S    HISTORY    OF    EUROPE, 

From  the  Subversion  of  tlie  Roman  Empire  in  the  West  to  the  Abdication  of  Napoleon.     Translated 

by  Ammikw  Ckichto.n.  L  !  .  t  >      Second  Edition,     Price  6«. 

"  A  most  valuable  work,  and  written  with  much  care." — Heeren. 
"  An  excellent  book." — Professor  Smyth's  Lectures  on  Modern  History. 

BROWNING'S    HISTORY    OF    THE    HUGUENOTS; 

Beinf?  a  complete  Account  of  the  Sufferings  and  Progress  of  Protestantism  in  France,  from  the 
RcfonnatiuH  to  tlie  present  time.    A  New  Edition,  with  numerous  Additions  and  Corrections.     Price  6s. 

"  Oiuj  of  the  most  interesting  and  valuable  contributions  to  modern  history."— Gentleman's  Magazine. 

LIFE    OF    SIR    WILLIAM    WALLACE    OF    ELDERSLIE; 

Wit!!   t!h    lli>t  .!\    ut  his  Struggle  for  the  Independence  of  Scotland.     By  John  D.  Carrick,  Esq. 

NrH   Kditicii,      Price  'Ss. 

"  Thf  h  ^t  history  with  which  we  are  acquainted  of  those  important  events,  which,  under  the  auspices  of  that  hero  and 
patriot,  led  to  the  re  establishmert  of  Scottish  independence."— JSdiniuri^A  Literary  Journal. 

LIFE    OF    MARY,    QUEEN    OF    SCOTS, 

B%  IIiMo  Glassford  Bell,  Esq.     New  Edition.     I'rice  a**.  Hd. 
"  The  material  has  been  collected  with  much  industry,  and  arranged  with  great  spirit."— Zi7(?rory  Gazette. 


Vlii.VAKlSi.    1  uK   iMMLI'iAlL  PUBLltAliu.N, 

THIERRY'S    HISTORY   OF  THE  CONQUEST  OF    ENGLAND   BY  THE 

NORMANS, 

With  it-.  (  aiiM-,  troii;  thr  t/arTu-bl   i'cnotK   invl   ha  I'onse^-inrnces  to   tlie  f^resent  time.     Trau-:.ited 
Ironi  t!n'  lu?-l   l'an>  l.tiiHuU, 

'  A  writer  cquaiiy  admirable  for  eloquence  and  research."— J/<3M;*i«<o«A. 


THE    FAVOURITE   OF   NATURE. 

Fourth  Edition. 

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ibi}  pourtraye*!." — MqjiHiUj  .Ma-ja^ine. 


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